No Man's Land
by skitzoism
Summary: Murdoc/2-D; With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader...full summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

Put here from the peer pressure of a friend. (; Originally a g-slash exclusive, but she wanted to comment, so why the hell not. This is to you, SoS! So yeah, this will have my first mature scenes as a fanfiction writer. Definitely would love comments, whatever they may be, sweet or not since they are always appreciated and I am a new writer to this genre. Of course, thank you to my beta reader, Kinara (hope you don't mind the name drop!).

Warning: Murdoc/2-D; drug use; mentions of sex (will get steadily more graphic); stuff. Please, if this really makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't suggest reading it.  
Genres: General/Romance/Angst  
Full Summary: With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader. Murdoc has only seemed to fall more crazed and outlandish in his ideas, his sanity and sobriety seeming to deteriorate like his health. Murdoc's lies continue at a steady pace, 2-D unsure how to separate the fibs from the truth. Will it be Murdoc who wraps 2-D around his finger, or the other way around?

Onyx eyes opened to reveal nothing, seeing everything surrounding him layered in a thick inky, black. The young man's mind went from standstill to frantic as his fractured pupils rolled about wildly, despite knowing with his impeded eye site it was a lost cause in zero lighting. The worry crept in on his usually slow, and about only a few minutes ago, dormant mind as he realized he was stuck in a small, tight space.

A large hand reached forward to feel around, to get a slight grip on his environment; they came to a stop with a small extend of his arm, feeling splintering wood beneath his hands. He could swear he was surrounded by something soft, something oddly familiar as his breathing began to quicken. '_Where the hell am I?_' thought Stu Pot, '2-D', the singer of the world famous Gorillaz.

He could barely move, like he was enclosed in a cubby hole of some sort. 2-D couldn't figure out for the life of him why. He searched the last of his memories, which only granted him the thought of his last phone call with his recluse bassist, Murdoc Niccals. The man he had known for basically half of his life, who had taken off after a quick blood transfusion given by 2-D himself, had called him to finalize their meeting in London.

"You sure you don't want to check out the new place?" 2-D heard his drawling voice through the receiver, his own thick high-pitched Crawley accent answering back.

"I'm sure; I told you Muds, jus' finkin' of that place gives me the willies!" the frown could be heard in his voice, to which Murdoc gave a hearty laugh

"Fine, 2-D―your loss, I know you would have definitely loved it here; private beach, new recordin' studio; s'like a dream come true. Mmmm," he voice trailed off and 2-D rolled his eyes at the Satanist, but nodded despite him not being able to see it.

"I'll live―I fink it would do _you_ some good comin' back here, anyway. Where am I meetin' you again?"

"Oh, don't worry, that's all being arranged. You don't need to know a thing, aheheh..."

"Wot are you—_mmmmm_!" 2-D's voice was muffled by a hand clutching a stark white towel, and he could tell by the consistency of the cloth that it was soaking wet. He was about to struggle, bite the man with his gapped teeth if he had to, his phone forgotten as he looked around desperately; of course, the heavy bustle of London decided to now be missing. Before his phone hit the ground, 2-D was passed out in the man's arms after a few forced inhales, the pungent smelling liquid causing him to completely black out.

"Murdoc," 2-D spoke out loud in his wooden prison, knowing he was the sole reason behind this. He continued to try and remain calm, wondering what in the hell his band mate had in store, just where the hell had he placed him. Though in the past he thought it was entirely impossible, it appeared as though Murdoc Niccals had gotten even crazier.

2-D could only twist his body slightly since his head had been stuck skimming the top of the box. He could tell he had been in here for quite some time due to his sore shoulders as his skull was forced to lean downwards at a painful angle. He knew his sight was no use and his touch did little, so the next idea of moving his feet had brought some results. After a small shuffle of his sneakers, the singer could tell there was something below him within the same crate. One small stomp of his leg brought the sound of clinking glass; bottles, 2-D could immediately identify, which put the young man in a further twist. '_Fanks for packing me beer, when I can't even reach them!_'

As his focus began to return, so did the notice of a small headache beginning to form at the side of his head. He closed his eyes as he sighed in annoyance, happy to at least have enough movement to raise his digits to rub his temple. His fingers paused as they slipped through his messy locks; although the mess was the norm, the greasy consistency was not. Just how the hell long was he knocked out for!

His finger tips graced past his chin, feeling obvious prickles from a lack of shave. '_Feels like a day or two…or three…_' snorted the Brit to himself, which did not help quell his anger towards the older man.

Stu Pot was in need of his pills, a cigarette, and by the feeling stinging through his shoulders, a damn back rub. Just what was running through Murdoc's head, 2-D would never know. Murdoc's behavior had been noticeably stranger than usual―and that was saying a lot. The former speed addict had always been eccentric, living proudly up to his titles of 'uncouth', 'alcoholic', and 'womanizer'. He was filthy and full of lewd comments, and his cleaning habits were more than questionable. But now he had appeared to have reached new levels of sick thoughts as he proved he had the balls to mail 2-D in a wooden box.

After Demon Days, 2-D hadn't heard back from him for over a half a year, nothing, not even checking in to remind Stu he was alive. 2-D had picked only the necessary things from Kong before he left for his mother's home to follow his dreams of law school, Murdoc missing from the decaying walls of Kong Studios. At their ordeal in the city, the bassist simply stated he had 'other things to do,' and 'would see 2-D real soon.'

Finally, a few weeks or so since his final visit to Kong, 2-D received a phone call starting with a wet cough from his seemingly ailing friend.

"D, my liver is actin' up again," 2-D could hear the hesitance in his strained voice. "I need you to come back to Kong." 2-D imagined the 'please' that hung from his chapped lips, but it never came. Of course the ever loyal 2-D left his mother despite her complaints and wandered up to the steps of their recording studio, amazed at how fast the building had decayed since his leaving.

The skinny man entered the car park and soon after the Winne, Murdoc hooked up to an array of machines in only his skivvies, yet the smirk never wavered off his unshaven and now gaunt face.

"Ever given blood before, 2-D?" 2-D went as pale as his sickly comrade at the site of the medical components, eyes switching up to the attractive nurse at Murdoc's bedside. 2-D was a perfect match for the older man, reluctantly sitting on a stretcher before passing out from the blood loss and his nerves. He awoke to a much healthier sounding and appearing Satanist, who puffed away on a cigarette despite the IV still in his vein.

"Thank God for your sweet blood, dullard. I thought you went and shat yourself though, but you jus' passed out like some frightened possum." All 2-D desired was a Gatorade and to leave the makeshift hospital bed, Murdoc already up and moving since the transfusion. "God damn nurse gave me a diuretic, peein' every five minutes…" 2-D watched as he and his IV moved towards the Winnebago's bathroom, now stuck with his shirt off and his own intravenous needle.

2-D and Murdoc caught up for a few moments, the bassist elusive on his information on where Noodle was other than she was safe and enjoying the Maldives. Murdoc already had a drink even with the IV in his arm, ignoring the nurse's warnings on the danger of drinking, which landed his liver in this whole mess. "Eh, she's jus' here to look at―ignore her."

Other than that, Murdoc sent 2-D back on his way, with more promises to speak to him soon, that he would let him know about his future 'masterpieces', and of course told him to keep his vocals in top shape.

2-D figured he wouldn't hear from Murdoc anytime soon, so when his phone was ringing off the hook one night, he didn't rush to pick it up. Ignoring it the first few times, 2-D didn't bother looking at who was calling as he continued to try to sleep through the noise. Finally, the singer turned over with a growl and picked up, his annoyance instantly evaporating when hearing Murdoc on the other line.

It was a small message, Murdoc speaking quickly and unusually nervous as soon as 2-D answered. He frantically explained the situation of Noodle being whisked away to Hell and assured he was going in to retrieve her, before hanging up and never calling 2-D back with an answer on how it went.

The singer remembered sitting next to his phone for days, only able to admit to his self how sick the worry was making him. He sat in his mother's living room, the temporary office to 2-D's studies of law, unable to read the curriculum's thick text books as he stared at his old, flip cell phone (now replaced with a handy iPhone). It was the he who called back Murdoc after it became too unbearable, who picked up sounding disheveled as ever.

"Huh? Wot are you―_Oh._ OH! Oh, _that_. Oh, she's fine, dullard. Jus' needed to give Beelzebub a quick reminder, y'know? Wasn' given' him any part of my guitarist," it was followed by a throaty chuckle and the dial tone, the older man hanging up without another word.

The promise of seeing 2-D 'real soon' never was fulfilled, proof to why 2-D was so surprised to receive a phone call around the summer months of 2009. Murdoc gave him a call around early June, and all 2-D could do at first was stare down at the vibrating Mac device. His iPhone shivered in his long fingers a few times before he finally picked up, Murdoc's raspy yet strangely enticing voice slipping into 2-D's ear and out the other.

"Hello faceache," the greeting caused the singer to shutter to himself as he immediately identified the voice. "2-D, it's been a while. I have a few surprises, which are in need of your voice." 2-D was about to speak before Murdoc interrupted him. "Remember, you owe me your soul, 2-D, no 'ifs', 'ands', or 'buts'. I want you on my island in the next few days."

"Island?" repeated 2-D, a bushy eyebrow rising as he walked towards his home from the bus stop, a way he usually took to arrive to the University on time.

"Plastic Beach, dullard. I'll be sending you a ticket and a map. A picture will arrive as well. Let you see a look at our new home."

"New home, on an island!" Murdoc obviously had chosen the right words to say, Stu Pot always enjoying the Caribbean more than any other spot their band had visited.

"Mmm, you could say that. Got a private beach, lighthouse; Oh, D, you're goin' to love it." And with that, the bassist hung up, leaving 2-D to wonder if this was just a bluff. A few days had gone by without another word, until a knock on the door had sounded through the Pot's home. His mother Rachel had approached the door as she dried her hands with a towel, signing for the envelope that appeared to be covered in an array of stamps.

2-D approached his mother as she shut the door in only his boxers, the older woman slipping on her reading glasses as she read the address of the sender.

"Murdoc Niccals; from 'Point Nemo, Africa'?" she scoffed as she handed her son the envelope, returning to her job in the kitchen. "I tell you, Stuart, he's a cretin."

2-D read the small tag centered on the brown envelope himself before he sat upon his den's couch and cracked open the seal. He first pulled out the promised ticket, with a transfer from France to Bangui in central Africa. He studied the average looking plane pass as if it was the Chocolate Factories famous golden ticket, to which Bangui M'Poko International Airport beckoning 2-D to arrive and then depart towards Murdoc's new abode.

Not only Murdoc's abode it seemed, but his. Was this to be his new home? It never occurred to him as he packed, his mother looking over his shoulder as he attempted to gather everything he felt important. He wondered if he was moving all his possessions with him to Africa, looking back to his only living parent with his opaque eyes.

"Mum, I'm leavin' for Africa tomorrow. Muds needs me to record, he got a new place, on a beach!" he stated excitedly, revealing his two missing front teeth in a smile to his suspicious mother.

"Is that so?" she asked, frowning. "Where exactly is this, 'beach', he claims to have?"

"I dunno, it's private, but here's a picture." He dug into the brown envelope to pull out a Polaroid, studying it himself for a moment before he handed it to his mother. Rachel Pot raised a thin eyebrow as she studied the said picture, noticing the large rock formation that sprouted out the ground and lifted the new 'Kong Studios' into the air. The building was huge and modern, with both square and circular windows which were frosted heavily enough to not allow view within the structure. The lighthouse was heavily complimented by the green, leafy palm trees and small quaint buildings surrounding it; the rest of the island looked sunny and beautiful, appealing to the Gorillaz singer enough for him to trust Murdoc's enticing offer.

"May I borrow this before you leave, Stuart?" she asked, flashing the picture upwards before tucking it into her blouse.

"Of course, mum, I ain't goin' yet." He kissed her cheek before walking past, excited about the whole prospect of what was to happen in the near future. He didn't watch his mom creep over to the aged computer sitting in sleep mode on his desk, walking to the restroom as he looked over his features in the mirror.

Long, thin pianist fingers ran through his messy, azure locks, which still remained as untidy and thick as ever. Charcoal, indented eyes remained pushed back into his youthful face, which was still wrinkle free despite the many cigarettes he inhaled and headache pills he popped. 2-D studied his face, hands tracing the bags under his eyes which had always strangely been there despite the amount of sleep he gained. '_Thirty–one_' rang through his brain, unable to believe it had been twelve years since he was nineteen, the way fate had strangely thrown together Stu Pot and Murdoc Niccals with not one but two car accidents.

The thought of Murdoc entered 2-D's frazzled brain, his eyes looking deep into his reflection as he thought about his older band mate. The man was cynical, loud, and particularly cruel towards Stu; yet 2-D never deterred on his faithfulness to the man who had given him a musical career. Suddenly 2-D avoided his reflection's eye contact, which in return looked down to his nervously twitching fingers in the sink below.

2-D needed to be careful as he day dreamed about Murdoc, because things he attempted to lock away from his subconscious threaten to taint his thoughts. Thoughts that Muds himself had warned him against after that one night in—

'_No._' 2-D said firmly to what he assumed to be his feelings, ignoring the pit in his stomach the moment produced. He tore away from the bathroom as he entered his bedroom, speaking to his mom as he began to open a new suitcase, throwing in a mix of clothes, instruments, and other possessions as he began to go on.

"Murdoc says there are loads to do on the island, there is even some type of submarine of some sort…" the excitement in the young man's voice was evident as he scratched his chin in recollection.

"Is that so, Stuart?" 2-D did not expect such a stern reaction from his mother, giving a deadpan blink before gazing over to her. He walked over calmly towards Rachel, giving her a bit of an upset look.

"You aren't happy? Mum…it's for the band. Y'know this is what I do for a livin', even before law and everyfing."

"That's not the problem, Stuart. It's this." A long, painted nail had pointed at the screen towards what his mother had been looking for, 2-D's large eyes going even wider. His mother had searched the coordinates of Murdoc's mansion, forty–eight degrees south and one–hundred–and–twenty–three degrees west on the wonders of the internet, displaying a picture which painted a completely different story to 2-D.

"Murdoc," 2-D shouted at his iPhone, taking both Murdoc and his mother listening in on the phone call by surprise. "I don't know where you sent that picture from, but I should have known you were tryin' to trick me!"

"Trick you?" asked Murdoc, and 2-D could almost hear the mock that seeped through his hurt tone. "Now how did I go and do that?"

"Oh, let me tell you," 2-D was using an angry tone when speaking, one which was rare for the usually even-tempered singer. "Points forty–eight degrees and one–hundred–and–twenty–three degrees; two–thousand–five–hundred–and–ninety–two kilometers from land; prone to tropical cyclones, typhoons, mudslides, torrential rains, tornadoes, gale winds, major lightning and thunder storms? Not to mention the heavy fog and the common occurrences of pirate attacks," Before Murdoc could speak, 2-D continued. "Pirates! I didn' even know those existed anymore!"

"Oh, dullard, you are overreacting. I'm here, and so is Noodle, and trust me, she's been―"

"Noodle," 2-D blinked, not hearing from his female cohort in years. "Noodle is really wiff you?"

"_Weeeell_," as 2-D heard Murdoc extend the word suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. "Well, sort of. Jus', wot the hell D, you need to come here and record my album, pronto. Don't be such a wuss!"

"I am not being a 'wuss'; if you want to record YOUR album so bad, you can come here!" And with that, 2-D slammed his phone down and began to ignore the many rings that followed in pursuit. He walked past his eavesdropping mom and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a can of White Light as he refused to look her way.

"Stuart," she sounded concerned, to which 2-D shrugged off.

"It's fine, mum. Don't worry about it." He took off back to his room, where almost all of his possessions were packed away and ready to be shipped, sitting on the bed he had inherited since a teenager. He sighed deeply, looking down at his large, pale feet. '_I should've known he would lie like that_'. Of course Murdoc would lie to get what he wanted, the Satanist thought nothing of it.

2-D looked to the pocket of where the actual photo of 'Point Nemo' was hidden, reaching in and pulling out the crumpled picture. He stared at the building, which looked exactly like the one in the first photo, but now with a thick, green fog and scorching lightening behind it. The waves looked wild and vengeful, and the trees looked like they were shaken like ragdolls.

2-D looked to the plane ticket further up on his bed, turning towards it as he picked it up. He contemplated taking it and throwing it in the trash, but thought against it as he picked up the map Murdoc had sent. It had trailed from England all the way down to Central Africa, but noted there were multiple markings written and erased across the map as he lay back in bed.

It hurt him when Murdoc lied to him like this, just so the bassist could record 'his' record. '_His_' record? What happened to Gorillaz? The, 'B.E.S.T. ™©'? 2-D had barely given thought to how Murdoc even started this new CD, now unconfined from the bowels of the Mexican prison system. Noodle had dictated the last album; it did not surprise Stu that Murdoc had jumped right back into the reigns. Speaking of his guitarist, she was with Murdoc? I guess things really did go well when retrieving her back from Hell. He felt sad he wouldn't be able to see the nineteen year old, but knew he had to stay strong. Plus, that place really did scare the hell out of him!

Zombies are one thing, but pirates? 2-D needed to draw the line somewhere.

"_Stuart!_" hollered his mom from their kitchen. "If you're not goin' to pick up your phone, at least turn it off!" 2-D frowned, taking a sip of his beer before bringing it with him downstairs. He approached his cell phone, which was still vibrating on his living room's coffee table, picking it up with a glare.

"Murdoc, stop callin' me―"

"Stuart," 2-D froze, and he couldn't help the small blush that graced his cheeks. Murdoc knew 2-D all too well; it was rare for the bassist to call him by his full name, and knew it worked well to lure 2-D into what he wanted him to hear. 2-D cursed his body and its reactions. "Listen to me."

2-D sighed in annoyance, knowing a headache was soon to come. "Well, Murdoc; I'm listenin'." He sipped his beer as he sat upon the couch, running his fingers through his hair.

"I will come to London, and we'll speak there. Happy?" 2-D could detect the annoyance in his voice, following with the mumble, 'such a baby'.

"Fine, we'll talk in London, but you will not get me to go to that island. Murdoc," 2-D swallowed. "Somethin' about the place scares me, I'm sorry; got a bad feelin'." He spoke quietly, and hoped Murdoc got the sad and frightened vibe he was trying to convey.

"Wotever, 2-D. You better just be the amazin' singer you always were―you are essential to Gorillaz, I'll give you that. I'll call you tomorrow with details, dullard." After a small click, Murdoc had hung up.

'_Essential to Gorillaz_' thought 2-D, stroking the soft skin of his throat with a bit of grin. 2-D had found it surprisingly easy to talk Murdoc into changing his mind, which was unusual for the infamously stubborn Satanist. But he was glad to receive the phone call the next day to verify their meeting, already in London and excited to show him the new flat he recently purchased for he and his mate to reside in. He figured Murdoc would find a way for him to record over here in the UK, and everything would work out fine and dandy. Besides, 2-D thought, how long had Murdoc been residing on that island?

But here was 2-D after being gassed, trapped in whereabouts unknown, feeling hungry and in pain for being cooped up so long. God knows how long he had been in here, and he wondered if his mother was worried sick about him. More than likely Murdoc had figured out that too, probably calling his mother and attempting to sweet talk away her distress. 2-D frowned at the thought of his bassist, his knuckles cracking as his tired fingers formed into a fist.

Unable to see the ball his hand formed, he desperately smacked it into the thick wood. He bit back a yelp of pain, his fingers gaining a few splinters. '_That's not a good idea_,' So, if 2-D couldn't break out, he would continue being forced to wait? Murdoc packed him beer; did he also pack him food? Not that it mattered, considering the singer couldn't reach either. So he was stuck here, for who knows how much longer, lowering his blind eyes as he controlled his breathing in even breaths.

These were the times 2-D questioned his loyalty and other affections he held for Murdoc Niccals. Murdoc was never particularly nice to 2-D, usually calling him demeaning names, despite if other people were around to behold the spectacle. He also enjoyed being vicious and abusive, Stu Pot's lanky form seeing an array of bruises and wounds when Murdoc directed attacks on him.

Yet 2-D continued to follow him blindly, able to admit to everyone that he hung on every word and gesture the bassist would do. If one watched closely enough, they could detect the way 2-D stared at him a little too long, a little too enamored, a little too 'involved'. 2-D tried his best to hide such displays, but found it futile when alone with his aging band mate.

2-D could only say to himself how much he truly loved Murdoc. Not just loved Murdoc; how much he _loved_ Murdoc.

It crept on him early in their career, his fascination for Murdoc growing like their number of fans and singles. He began to realize just how woman found the sordid and gross native of Stoke–on–Trent attractive, how his dark chuckle and humor were alluring. The singer had kept these feelings locked away and did well hiding them by luring in his own female cohorts, and with such pretty looks he harbored since a young age, had no issues doing so. Both Murdoc and 2-D made an excellent team with picking up the ladies, the other man never questioning just how much 2-D cared about him.

2-D never really dwelled too much of them, to be honest. He just thought it was a passing phase, an infatuation for the man who had cared for his comatose form for months until he woke him by carelessly crashing him through his Astra's window. He knew this changed nothing between him and his band leader, that such feelings were highly unlikely to be returned, and that the man abused him far too much to even fathom it.

Yet it did happen when the two men least expected it, on a fateful evening during the early recordings of Demon Days, on a night as dark as 2-D's current surroundings.

Stewart had been looking for Murdoc throughout the building of Kong, before it became decrypt and decaying after their second album. He found the older man none too surprisingly residing within the Winnebago, 2-D hesitating before giving a knock on his door.

Murdoc answered, cigarette hung loosely between his lips, shirtless with only a pair of dirty and stained jeans. He also sported his classic Cuban heels and inverted cross, which hung glinting on his neck as he stared down at his timid singer.

"Wot?" he asked, not hiding the attitude in his voice.

"I dunno. Where are Noodle and Russ?" asked 2-D, as if he completely forgot why he wanted to speak to Murdoc in the first place. He knew secretly he had just missed the tough, older man, the two returning only a few days before. 2-D was barely able to speak to him, only seeing him once or twice in the recording studio. "May I come in?"

"Hell if I know, he probably wanted somethin' to eat and she tagged along." He rolled his eyes, pausing in his facial expression as he raised a brow at the last question. "'_Come in'_? Why?"

2-D shrugged. He took a deep breath. '_You promised yourself; be more assertive, grow a pair, D!_' 2-D had desperately thought of ways to impress his older cohort during their break, to move past the names of 'dullard' and 'imbecile' the man enjoyed calling him so much.

"Um," he searched his brain for a good answer. "I wanna drink?"

"You wanna drink," Repeated Murdoc, giving a snort. "Okay, do you have anythin'?"

"Well, I don't have any booze," Murdoc was about to show him his back. "But I have this!" 2-D reached into his pocket and produced a good sized Ziploc bag, half of it filled with thick green buds known as marijuana. Murdoc looked at it hungrily, licking his lips with his inhumanly long tongue.

"2-D, you know exactly how to seduce me." 2-D desperately fought off the flush on his face, trying to banish such an idea. "Alright, I'm sold." Murdoc pulled away from the door frame and allowed 2-D entrance, to which the singer followed with sunny thoughts.

"Don't touch anythin'―you'll probably break it." Grunted Murdoc as he sat in a ruby velvet chair, 2-D gazing at the ceiling's array of air fresheners before looking to the other.

"Do you ever change those?" pondered 2-D out loud as he sat upon Murdoc's couch, getting comfortable besides the speakers.

"If I remember to, sure," Murdoc pulled heavily on his cigarette, reminding 2-D of his own addiction as he pulled out his own. "So, wot are we smokin' out of tonight?" it had been ages since both 2-D and Murdoc smoked together, not since the recordings of their first album.

"I dunno, got any papers?"

"Nah," Murdoc grunted. "Been drug free since my stint in the big house." He scratched himself inappropriately, eyes turning upward as he thought. "But look in between those speakers, if I remember correctly…"

2-D blinked as he reached between the said electronics, feeling around as he felt a small, glass piece. The pipe was pulled out from a joyous 2-D, Murdoc smirking as he got more comfortable in his spot.

"Perfect," Murdoc contently sighed, propping and crossing his feet besides 2-D. The singer looked to his thick leather boots then back to the other, who stared at him stoned face in return. "Are you goin' to pack it?"

"Oh!" 2-D smiled sheepishly as he began to move, reaching into his pocket and ignoring the older man's comment of, 'idiot'. "Was it scary?" asked a curious Stu Pot, packing the weed within the smoking device.

"Was wot scary?" Murdoc pulled out a cigarette from his pack, sick of watching 2-D smoke his own after the first was finished. 2-D pulled on his own fag and a thick wisp of smoke leaked from his spaced teeth.

"Jail," 2-D stated bluntly, handing Murdoc the bowl and offering him first hits. Murdoc took it happily, lighting it up with a smile and taking a deep inhale before speaking. The older man threw his head back and allowed the smoke to trickle from his lips before he answered. He closed his eyes contently as he finally spoke.

"Nah," he shrugged, finally raising his head again before continuing. "It was nothin' special, that's for sure. Actually, eveythin' I expected. You met my boys, Pedro and Carlos―took real good care of me. Y'know, no one realized who I was, except for one or two guys who had been to that fiasco of a show," Murdoc's spiky smirk caused smile lines on his face. "Yeah, wot a pissa that was…"

Murdoc handed 2-D the piece and the singer took a large puff, his shoulders going lax as he breathed out the smoke. "Wot did you do there?"

"Pfft, I dunno, wot you think? It was fuckin' borin'. But," Murdoc took the pipe and hit it again, a grin on his visage. "Take a look at this." He handed the younger man the glass, heading towards the Winne's bedroom as 2-D watched. 2-D shrugged and hit the bowl again, holding in the smoke before letting it vacate his nose. Murdoc returned with what appeared to be a thick sheet of paper as well as a hefty bottle of Jägermeister. "Here,"

2-D and Murdoc switched, the singer studying the slice of parchment before fully identifying what it was as Murdoc smoked. "Is this a diploma?"

"Dr. Niccals, general practitioner, at your service," He said with his fanged beam, walking towards the front of the Winne and returning with two glasses. "Can get you those headache pills with a snap of my fingers."

"Wow, Muds." He blinked as he read it over. "I wish I had somethin' like this."

Murdoc took a hit before giving a snicker, reaching forward and snatching the diploma from his grasp. "Need a brain for that, dumbarse." 2-D frowned and was about to retort as bravely as possible, but was cut off from his loud-mouthed house mate. "I know it's so hard, but enough about me―let's cut to the drinkin'."

"Muds, that stuff is _way_ too strong! I know you have a beer." 2-D pouted, to which Murdoc ignored as he poured them both a shot.

"Shaddup, you're such a faggot sometimes." 2-D's pout only intensified, the older man rolling his eyes. "Drink this, and I'll get you a beer. Promise," Murdoc flashed his usually untrustworthy smile, but 2-D guessed the marijuana loosened him up a bit as he gave in.

"…Fine." 2-D took the last hit off the pipe, taking a deep breath. "I'll drink it." He took the cup in his hand and Murdoc looked as happy as a pig in shit.

"Far out, dullard, that's what I like." The pair cheered, the more cynical of the two looking delighted and the other with a worried frown as they sipped down their shot. 2-D sputtered and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, Murdoc giving a chuckle. "It's not that bad, it's Jäger!"

"Says you," 2-D snorted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "May I have that beer?"

"Did I say one shot? I meant two." 2-D eyes went wide as Murdoc poured another, the bassist feigning a look of pain. "2-D, my oldest and most trusted friend, will you not take a shot with me? How long did we go on without speakin'?"

"'Bout a year an' a half," Murdoc had not expected an actual answer, but shrugged as he looked modestly down from the shots to 2-D. 2-D sighed and took his glass again, Murdoc giving a bit of a playful bounce. "Awright, if you put it that way."

"That's a boy!" they crashed their glasses together again and took another shot, 2-D happy to taste that it was slightly more bearable the second time around. Murdoc didn't look or act phased one bit, standing up and moving towards the fridge. "Pack another bowl, dullard. The night has just begun."

2-D took the offered bottle of White Light and the two began drinking heavier, and one beer turned to about five or six. The two men took a few more shots before 2-D was left slouching against the couch, his eyes half-lidded from the buzz and laughter as Murdoc swayed and took a shot by himself.

"…And me and Shane look at this girl and we're like, '_No we're not from 'N Sync, wot type of music do you fink we make?'_" Murdoc nearly coughed up his drink, picking up his beer to wash it down the right pipe. 2-D laughed as well as he took another hit from the bowl, the two men making a noticeable dent on the amount of beer, weed, and Jägermeister. "But I've had a few other girls recognize me at the fair."

"Oh really," Murdoc took the pipe from him, puffing his cigarette before the smoking device. "How was your stay back in Eastbourne?" he sipped his beer, the older man feeling as intoxicated if not more than the man across from him.

"Oh Muds, it was like I never left! I was back on the funfair―meetin' plenty of chicks." He said with a smirk, intentionally rubbing it in Murdoc's face. If he was to impress him some way or another, why not with the ladies?

"Oh, birds were nice?" Murdoc could at least admit to himself deep down that 2-D really did have a thing with girls, his fair features and looks pleasing to the eyes. "Oh man, imagine; I hadn' gotten laid in God knows…"

"Still?" asked a surprised 2-D before giving a hiccup.

"Pfft, nah, as soon as I busted out, I went right back to the coop that sold me in! Gave those chickies at 'The Chicken Choker' somethin' to remember." He chuckled darkly, stroking his chin as he remembered and sipped his beer.

"'The Chicken Choker'?" repeated 2-D with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, wot of it?" Murdoc looked at his talons before glaring back at 2-D, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Sounds," 2-D hesitated as he thought of a polite way to say it. "…Nice." 2-D decided to lie instead.

"Oh, I forgot. Prostitutes aren't your '_fing_'," Murdoc rolled his eyes. "You aren't a real man until you sleep with a hooker, 2-D." Murdoc pointed with his beer as he spoke, leaning lazily in his chair as he burped before speaking. "They know how to fuck better than anyone―well, except me of course," he laughed lightly before giving a small hiccup himself. "We both do it for a livin'."

2-D shook his head, finishing his beer before standing up. "I'll fink I'll manage," 2-D wobbled a bit to which Murdoc sniggered at, the thin man walking towards the fridge as he grabbed another ale. "You want one?"

"Of course, dullard. Wot type of question is that?" Murdoc stole his spot on the couch and let out a relaxed sigh, lying down with his legs crossed. "I like the idea of a song called, 'White Light'―wot a tribute."

2-D chuckled and turned back to Murdoc with two bottles, his grin fading as he saw his spot taken. "Muds, you took me seat!" he frowned as he began to sway; 2-D was definitely feeling intoxicated and standing did not help matters.

"Too bad; shouldn't have got up," Murdoc hit the bowl, his eyes bloodshot from the combination of pot and liquor. He lit a cigarette, scooting further into the couch, taking a deep inhale before blowing smoke in Stu Pot's face. "My Winne, my spot."

2-D frowned and set the two bottles down, and Murdoc did not expect him to literally push his feet off the couch. Murdoc instantly sat up and his face turned happily brooding to angered, grabbing 2-D by the collar of his shirt.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Murdoc turned and slammed him down to the couch, 2-D all the sudden not feeling as courageous when his back hit the sofa. "Don't tell me you forgot your place, dullard. You know better," 2-D remained frozen as Murdoc glared deeply at him, the scent of booze and cigarettes filling his senses. He felt Murdoc's harsh grasp barely glimpse his skin, the smell of thick cologne creeping in on him as well.

"Um," 2-D answered with a crack of his voice, flinching. "I'm sorry, Muds; it will not happen again."

Murdoc did not move his hold on 2-D, the younger man giving a 'gulp' as Murdoc suddenly smirked down on him. "Stuart," he chuckled. "Silly, silly Stuart."

'_Oh. No._' the way the bassist spoke his name, 2-D couldn't hold back the visible shudder that suddenly overcame him. Murdoc's smile faltered as he took notice easily, at first staring deep into 2-D's indented gaze. The onyx was unusually bright at the moment, and a small pink was forming underneath the bags that afflicted the youth. Murdoc finally looked downward to 2-D's lap, which was currently hidden below long fingers twitching nervously.

Murdoc's two-toned gaze switched upwards as his lips moved to speak, but was cut off by a shocking move from 2-D; 2-D kissed him on the mouth, lingering for a moment before pulling away slowly. 2-D froze as he stared at Murdoc in shock, trying to process the action he just committed with his best mate as his head hit the sofa with a 'thud'. Murdoc stared back, still and blank except for a light twitch of muscles below his crimson eye.

2-D and Murdoc never acknowledged if the next move was out of wanton feelings or intoxication; the two men crashed their lips back together with such force it sent 2-D's head to the wall, Murdoc taking full control as he kissed the younger man hungrily. Fanged teeth nipped 2-D's thin bottom lip before giving a gentle tug, his long inhuman tongue slithering between eager lips. Murdoc invaded 2-D's mouth as the singer let out a muffled moan, the two sliding down to lay across the couch. Murdoc let out a throaty purr as 2-D tangled hands into his oily shag, the dominant of the two pushing his way between his long legs.

The rest was in a drunken blur, the two men kissing their way to the Winne's bedroom accompanied by feverish touches and the shedding of clothing. 2-D allowed Murdoc to take him as he pleased, not thinking twice as Murdoc ripped off his tight jeans, 'T―virus' shirt, and trainers, allowing him to touch him in places that he never fathomed before.

2-D felt the crate he presently inhabited get warmer as he remembered the way the two consummated such unspoken, locked away passion, not just keeping it in the bedroom as they found other places within the Winne to clear off and shag wildly. 2-D had climaxed so hard he saw stars, the older man finishing inside him with a heavy shudder and the sound of his singer's name coming from his own mouth.

The next morning was a hard one for the both, the two waking up hung over and confused as they found their naked bodies entwined upon the stained Egyptian silk sheets. The men at first said nothing, sitting in the stale scented environment of Jägermeister, weed, and beer with wide, incredulous eyes. Murdoc didn't hold back as he pushed 2-D to the floor, the singer scrambling to stand up and run before the Satanist grabbed his bare ankle, his other hand taking a hold of his hicky painted neck as he slid him underneath his stronger form.

"You little faggot," 2-D wheezed underneath him, trying to find air to collect as it felt awfully familiar, thinking back to the day Murdoc last choked him before fleeing to Mexico. "You planed this, didn't you? You just couldn't help yourself!" Murdoc shook 2-D in his grasp, the older man forgetting their intimate act only hours before as he handled him brutally.

Murdoc took a deep breath and to 2-D's surprise, let go, standing up and backing away as he reached for a cigarette. "Get the fuck up and out―take your clothes, your fuckin' weed, and get!" he threw a bottle at 2-D, just missing the singer's head as it hit the floor besides him with a smash. 2-D took a few deep breaths before gathering his belongings, not looking at the bassist who remained comfortably bare yet seething in his spot, avoiding looking at 2-D as well.

Finally 2-D spoke, his lips trembling as he held his clothes to cover his groin. "Muds," his voice shook with the mouth that just teased the bassist's olive skin. "I'm sorry." Before Murdoc could say a word he fled, bare ass and shivering as he ran to his room and slammed the door shut.

2-D dropped all his possessions and fell to his knees, fingers kneading through his hair as his head began to ache. He was dizzy, and almost positive that he would pass out before he reached his pills. The said medication stood on the nightstand besides his bed, calling to 2-D as he basically dragged himself there by his hands. He reached for it and finally took a hold, ripping off the child safety lock cap with shuttering fingers. He popped three pills and sealed his prescriptions into the nightstand, curling up on his clothes strewn floor as he thought back to last night.

He eventually snuck out, his eyesight back to normal and feeling much better. His backside and thighs were sore, as well as other muscles he used during the pummeling sex. 2-D blushed at the recollection as he checked to see the Winnebago from the crack of his door. He could hear the rumbling and obnoxious snoring of its owner from his room's location, sneaking out to catch a quick shower before Murdoc could awaken.

2-D relished the warm water, the shower making his sore muscles feel slightly better. He just guessed he'd have to up the dosage on his meds, since the hickies on his body were even beginning to sting. He studied his pale form, now marred by dark gashes made from Murdoc's long claws. He once again flushed, shaking water and lather from his hair as if trying to rid of the memories fresh with Murdoc's grunts and moans, as well as his own.

"How," whispered 2-D as he turned off the taps, as if searching his memory on what gave him the bollocks to even attempt that last night. But what made it even more ridiculous was the way the bassist reacted and returned his kiss, the one who chose to deepen it with his tongue as well as bring 2-D to bed. It was him who first unbuttoned his pants, it was him who―

2-D's thoughts came to a halt when the door to the showers crashed open, hitting the back of the wall with a 'slam'. Heavy footsteps boomed through the tiled floor as 2-D scrambled to cover himself with a towel, shivering from the threat those sounds entailed.

The next thing he knew the stall had been forced open, 2-D just avoiding the door as it hit into the plastic siding besides him. He was curled in the corner of the shower, trapped between two walls as Murdoc sauntered in only wearing y-fronts, with a look like knives stabbing into 2-D as he moved in on him.

"Good to see you decent," stated Murdoc, cracking his knuckles as he inched closer. 2-D shivered from Murdoc's icy glare and the drops littering his skin, cowering as his eyes begged mercy. Murdoc stopped when he stood about a few inches away, his hand extending outwards and taking 2-D by the neck again. The singer outwardly cringed, yet his grip wasn't nearly as strong as the last time, just hard enough to remind 2-D that his thumb lingered over his pulse. "We need to talk. Don't think I didn't expect you to avoid me, dullard."

2-D finally made eye contact with his own hallow eyes, swallowing before he worriedly spoke. "Look, I know you don't believe me, but I didn' plan nothin'―"

"Oh, but you did; don't think I've never noticed the way you stare at me, Stuart." Murdoc slammed 2-D's head into the tiled wall as the singer suppressed a shudder, choosing to yelp out instead. "It was my mistake to even dare to appease you; you will not let this happen again."

"Why me?" he asked, trying his best to glare back at him. He got a bad chill as Murdoc smirked, the devilish man looking even more evil than usual as he brought himself close. His lips barely glimpsed 2-D's own, the young man openly shaking as he felt the other's warm breath.

"Because you know it won't be me bein' able to control myself," he paused. "You will never tell a soul, and if you're smart, you'll be better at choosin' who you fall for dullard because I'm your worst choice yet." His smile remained cruel. "Oh sure, I see why; if it's not my smooth talkin', it's my good looks right?" he gave a half-hearted laugh, 2-D unsure if he was being serious or sarcastic. "Take my advice; I'll never give you what you want. I won't change, not for anyone," he brought his lips to his neck before pulling away a final time. "Not even for someone as gorgeous as you."

Before 2-D could say word, Murdoc turned away and showed him his back, which was even more afflicted than 2-D's own. 2-D studied the dipping trail of scars he himself made until the man left him alone in the bathroom. The singer was so frustrated; unsure if from his heart feeling broken or just how the situation seemed to get progressively worse, tears welling in the corner of his eyes as he felt pathetic standing alone in the chilly wash room.

2-D had always regretted not assuring Murdoc, for not even speaking up as the bassist put himself and his younger band mate down. 2-D wished he had told him he wasn't searching for change, just to give Murdoc the happiness he thought he could provide him. Such thoughts dawned on him that his feelings for Murdoc were just that, deep emotions that were much more than a passing infatuation.

Things had gone on exactly the same, the bassist at first throwing him glares when 2-D would stare over at him, the pianist able to read the words, 'back off' in his eyes. 2-D more than ever kept himself in check around Murdoc, happy to have kept up on his vocal practice during break as he sang beautifully on the new tracks. Noodle was impressed and Murdoc began to loosen up again, beginning to treat 2-D with his usual mix of abuse and even rare friendly comments he'd dish out at his, 'best mate'.

But 2-D could swear that neither man forgot and that he wasn't the only one who didn't think back to it from time to time. 2-D had memories of catching the bassist staring at him, before the older man would either revert his eyesight or even turn his stare to a death glare. 2-D never brought it up, keeping his promise of never speaking of the ordeal to anyone, not even to the man it happened with.

There had been one or two close calls when Murdoc would be intoxicated; a wink here or there or a passing comment 2-D would laugh off with a flush. The two fully slipped one evening as 2-D remembered drinking heavily together at a saloon, smoking spliffs and flirting with local girls. Murdoc had drunk himself sick, 2-D carrying the mumbling man towards the Winnebago alone.

"I dunno," Murdoc hiccupped. "I dunno if it's a good idea you come in." he was attempting to support himself on the mobile home's door frame, a conniving smile growing on his face as an equally drunk 2-D raised a brow.

"Why is that? I'll leave right after, I won't touch anyfink!" he frowned as he took Murdoc by the arm again, but the older man yanked it out of his grasp. He took 2-D by surprise as he placed his hand instead on his lower back, leaning in to whisper in his ear as he stumbled a bit.

"You'll be touchin' _somethin'_ awright…" he chuckled as his voice trailed like his fingers, 2-D giving in as he gave his backside a squeeze. Murdoc brought himself close, enjoying the sweet scent that 2-D usually smelt of. "Mmm, 2-D, you're right, come in."

2-D blushed heavily, placing his hands on Murdoc's shoulder as he tried to push him off. "Awright, don't Murdoc; don't do somethin' you'll regret."

"Dullard," he only brought himself close again, nipping at his neck as his other hand grasped the next cheek. "Bring us to the bed."

2-D shook his head and let him hang on as he forced the other up the stairs, the older man continuing to assault his neck before finally finding 2-D's lips, trying to move himself past his gapped teeth and into his mouth. 2-D whimpered as he tried to fight back, but found it futile with his own lowered ambitions and desire for the aging man.

The two crashed down to the bed, the kiss becoming quickly aggressive as 2-D forced his shorter tongue into Murdoc's mouth. The Satanist tongue fought back with a playful growl, kissing 2-D as his hands remained rubbing his firm backside. 2-D had wriggled away for a moment and went to work on Murdoc's belt buckle, kneeling between the other man's legs as he worked open his pants. He moved to kiss him again but immediately stopped when he got a lack of response, pulling away as Murdoc below him began to snore.

He actually fell asleep! 2-D sat above him speechless, unsure what to do as Murdoc's hands' were still clutching his bottom. He blushed as he realized what type of mess he had gotten himself into again, relieved he could easily pull out of Murdoc's limp grasp and rush out past a staring Cortez, who watched him leave from his perch on the couch.

Murdoc awoke for their photo shoot a half an hour late, walking in as he attempted to rub away his blood shot eyes. "How did I get in the Winne?"

"I dunno," stated 2-D as he tried to hide the single hickey the bassist managed to leave for the time being, the other's attending the photo shoot teasing him before Murdoc appeared. "I dropped you off at the door, you went in by yourself."

"Oh, thanks," Murdoc paused for a moment as he craned his head, spotting the mark the singer tried to hide before teasing him. "Wow dullard, nice hickey." he winked at him before laughing, 2-D stewing in anger he couldn't express.

Of course, those photos were used for the Demon Days album, the three other members to this day unaware that one of their own caused it.

Since then, there were no further intimate connections between them. With the hype and successful turnout the record caused, all four members were busy with the highlight of their triumph and spoils. 2-D never told him of their last encounter, figuring it the night was better left unsaid. Things went on as usual, the band separating after their appearance at the Apollo, which leads to the present day of 2-D shivering in a wooden crate.

"How long will I be stuck in here?" pondered 2-D allowed, trying to get more comfortable in the pile of clothing surrounding him, now recognizing it as just that. Murdoc must have just shoved a bunch of his possessions in with him, 2-D hoping he at least brought his instruments if he was expecting to make music.

There was reserve following with only more silence, the young man closing his eyes tight as he began to feel withdrawal from his meds, his head pounding as he was in need of his medication as soon as possible. The singer willed himself to sleep, knowing it was the quickest cure to take care of his migraine. How could his 'friend' be so cruel, whisking him away to where some place 2-D just the other night had nightmares of?

2-D cursed; he was on his way to Point Nemo, Plastic Beach. No Man's Land.


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: Murdoc/2-D; drug use; mentions of sex (will get steadily more graphic); stuff. Please, if this really makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't suggest reading it.  
Genres: General/Romance/Angst  
Full Summary: With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader. Murdoc has only seemed to fall more crazed and outlandish in his ideas, his sanity and sobriety seeming to deteriorate like his health. Murdoc's lies continue at a steady pace, 2-D unsure how to separate the fibs from the truth. Will it be Murdoc who wraps 2-D around his finger, or the other way around?

---

2-D woke abruptly when his head hit what he assumed to the side of his parcel, eyes lazily snapping awake as he still only saw darkness. He felt like he was sleeping for only a few minutes, a dreamless rest which didn't feel at all refreshing. His migraine felt even worse since he had passed out, and he could definitely tell the temperature dropped as he spotted his breath faintly, giving a shiver as he tried his best to nuzzle into his clothes for warmth.

Another swift jerk had moved Stu Pot, sending his cranium again now to the ceiling. Now where was he? He realized he was moving fast, but completely oblivious to his method of travel. He assumed he was coming over in some type of cargo, but earlier did not feel such jerky movements and temperature chill. He sniffed the air as he was now thrown to the other side of the box, identifying the thick, salty smell to be the ocean.

'_Oh no,_' shivered 2-D, and not just from the frigidness. He was definitely on his way to the island now, already feeling the cool fog seep into the cracks of his enclosure. He could hear faint humming if he strained, and as he continued to listen he heard a familiar laugh; no wonder they were moving so erratically, it was Murdoc behind the wheel! The man was known to drive on the road like a mad man, and it was no different even on the choppy waves.

2-D held onto the sides of the box for dear life as the crate lifted off the ground, giving an 'umf!' as it hit back to the floor. The older man hit the gas harder before giving a laugh, his droning voice a pitch higher as he spoke over the waves. "D, is that you?" 2-D could hear another chuckle, but it was muffled as he took a swig of whatever he was drinking.

2-D's eyes narrowed as he punched at the wood, giving a quiet whimper from small splinters afflicting his hands. "Murdoc, let me out!"

Murdoc didn't move from his spot behind the helm, his snarky grin only growing as he avoided a rock, sending the box sliding across the floor with his usual cackle. "Wot D!? Can't hear you! We're almost there!"

The singer growled as he once again hit his head, the pounding becoming unbearable with the unwanted movement and the sounds of waves crashing against the boat. He couldn't even curl up, his usual defense mechanism against pain either from his faulty nervous system or by the man driving the boat.

It felt like hours until the boat finally slowed to a stop, 2-D hoping that Murdoc would finally free him. A few minutes went by and nothing happened, the wavering man about to speak until he felt the box lifted from the floor damp with sea water.

"Muds, my head, let me out," 2-D pleaded with him, his anger not showing by the pain in his tone. Murdoc let out a few of his infamous and annoying quacks, sounding slightly strained as he lugged the box along the shore. 2-D could swear he felt someone else assisting his band mate, but couldn't think twice through the throbbing in his brain.

"Noodle should be doin' this," he mumbled before returning an answer. "Don't worry D, got plenty of your pills inside, _promise you_." He stated in a sing-song voice. "D, did you finally get heavier? Wot has your mother been feedin' you, this is hell on my back!"

"I didn' gain nuffin'! It's all the crap you shoved in here wiff me!" snarled 2-D, his fury quickly returning. "I can't believe you did this."

"Really?" asked the bassist as 2-D yelped, the box crashing to the floor and opening him from his wooden prison. He instantly shut his lids, shielding them with his arm as even the dim light was too bright for his sensitive eyes to handle. It didn't help his headache as he crawled out of the parcel, the older man oblivious to 2-D's pain. "I'm pretty sure I've done crazier things, definitely with you around."

"Muds," 2-D took a deep breath as he controlled his breathing, not yet wanting to lash out at his bassist in such a state. He still kept his eyes closed, shielded by his forearm curled up on the cool floor of what he assumed to be the new studio. He fumbled a bit where he laid, his fingers slipping through the wide, square cracks on the grid floor. "Where are my meds?"

"Pfft," 2-D could imagine the older man rolling his eyes, recognizing his Cuban heels as they clicked away on the steel ground. "Relax, dullard, had 'em ready for you. Knew you'd be bitchin' after that little trip; Oh, Tattoo!"

2-D could only hear as his eyes remained shut, the young man listening to small steps start to grow from faint to more pronounce. Their movement was fast and somewhat skittish, a brash and accented voice breaking through the waterlogged sounds of the room.

"The meds, boss?" he was hesitant when speaking to Murdoc, as if the older man had ripped into him in the past. It sounded as if he was trying to subdue himself in front of his apparent 'boss'.

"Why thank you, Tattoo. _Now get lost._" Murdoc's voice came out as a bullying hiss and the servant sauntered back, 2-D not thinking much about him as he shivered on the metal ground. Murdoc snickered as he handed him the bottle, the singer having it down to a science as he mastered the safety lock with his eyes closed. It surprised the bassist, who watched as he lit up another Lucky Lung cigarette, not expecting the dullard to be good at such a tricky task. His attention quickly wondered to the crate. "Oi, I forgot I ordered all this!"

2-D popped not three but four pills, not caring how slow they'd make him; he knew it would be better this way, already feeling anxiety creep up on him as he opened his eyes to the place he was regretting. He sat up, still disoriented as the pills needed a few minutes to kick in. He looked around at what appeared to be Murdoc's idea of a foyer, littered with random goods and crap of his, the array of bizarre items not much unlike Kong's old possessions. After staring towards the large water tight door to the entrance of the building, 2-D gazed to the mesh steel floor, his fingers tightening around the skinny bars. The walls were grimy, tagged and seemed to have items fused into stone, Stewart studying a mass of trash not too far away melded into the foundation. 2-D could smell Murdoc all over this place like a virus, recognizing the heavy scent of various, noxious substances.

The singer just remembered Plastic Beach's owner, looking over to the man kneeling on the mesh floor to search through the goods in the crate. He was dressed in his usual attire, not changing much visually wearing tight blue flares covered in numerous stains with a single tear on one knee. His jacket covered in various buttons was already on the floor, the older man revealing his upper body as he vacated the package.

"Got us three 36's of White Light!" he lifted one of the said boxes in the air, 2-D studying his black button up top and loyal inverted cross dangling down his chest. 2-D sat there on the floor, still looking disoriented and scruffy from the trip.

"Is that wot was packed in wiff me?" he attempted to stand, the bassist giving a grunt as he leaned into the box more.

"Look at this; ordinary peanut butter or." after revealing himself again, he unscrewed the top of the jar and broke the seal. "Handy place to store piff?" he dug through the thick substance to reveal a bag packed to the brim with weed, concealed in the heart of the spread. "Thought you'd appreciate that."

"You sent me over seas wiff _drugs_?!" Stu asked, remembering his former rage at his bassist. '_I'm not givin' in this time, he went too far_,' repeated over and over in his now alleviated mind, standing on unstable legs as he made his way closer to his mate, his splintered and battered fingers curling into fists.

Murdoc wiped his hand on a pair of 2-D's spare trousers, giving a shrug as he finally looked over towards him. "Well, yeah, wotever. You came over fine, don't cry about it." He raised an eyebrow at 2-D's scruffy appearance, giving a laugh. "You smell like shit, dude. I think you pissed yourself."

He cracked up and nearly doubled over from laughter, sitting on the floor much like 2-D a moment ago as he guffawed. "I'm sorry, you look like the livin' dead fucked Grizzly Adams!"

2-D couldn't see how he looked at the moment, not that he would care as his breathing flared, his lids pinching in bitterness. "It's. Not. Funny." It was a whisper, but one that his aging band mate didn't ignore. 2-D watched as his two-toned eyes narrowed, doing their little dilation they usually did when he rampaged. He picked himself off the floor, not without a bit of a drunken stumble, bringing himself a few inches closer to the singer, standing face to face as he glared.

"Wot was that? I bring you here, with all your shit, gifts for a good time, have your fuckin' pills waitin' for you, and that's wot you say?" he gave a single laugh, a clawed finger poking 2-D on the chest. "'_It's not funny_'," Murdoc intimidated 2-D's voice, the singer not flinching despite how much more irate it got him. "Wot, cos the joke is on you, you lil' twat? Get. Over. It."

2-D studied the older man's face and if 2-D wasn't so enraged, would be shocked at the amount of age the forty-three year old exhibited, adding more wrinkles to which had already been there a few years ago. 2-D's eyes didn't hide as they traveled, noticing how much more green his skin had turned, going from olive to almost a sickly shade of puce.

"Stop lookin' like you _like_ somethin', dullard." The older pushed the younger man, undaunted by the inches of height 2-D had on him, even with his heels on. That did it for the singer, who didn't even think as he pushed back in a shocking show of bravado. Murdoc caught his footing easily despite his intoxication, nearly tripping on a shark carcass behind him. For a moment, Murdoc's eyes displayed how truly upset this made him, before quickly narrowing in warning as he let out a growl. 2-D rarely fought back, Murdoc more than likely being able to count the occurrences on one, callused hand.

Murdoc caught 2-D by the collar of his sweaty shirt, pushing him into the door ruthlessly. Murdoc raised a fist and it connected into 2-D's cheek, the singer crying out as his face swung to the side. His promise to stick up for himself rang loud in his mind as he again curled his fist up, hoping his aim was accurate as he swung with his eyes closed, his mind not at first realizing it was hitting flesh and teeth as it made contact.

2-D opened his eyes as he stood there, watching as Murdoc staggered backwards into the elevator doors, who looked at 2-D in a mix of shock and possible hurt, the singer unable to tell in such a blur of a moment. He looked at his hand, now covered in what he could see as saliva and light blood, looking back to the older man as his voice caught in his throat. "Muds."

The singer immediately regretted his act of courage as he backed away into the door, the bassist's looming shadow growing as his heels clacked closer and closer. "Murdoc, I'm…I'm so sorry, I was jus―" he paused as the older man spit out a tooth and blood before ambushing him, giving a swift punch to the gut followed by a kick to the knee. He administered a number of cuffs and throws as 2-D took them with little noise, biting his lip to the point it bled holding in his whimpers and yips. A few groans escaped as he hit the floor, Murdoc's final kick to the side forcing out a yelp.

"You get cockier and cockier every time you come back," Murdoc finally spoke, his fingers unclenching and lifting to feel his swelling lip, his slithering tongue licking at the space in his bottom front teeth. "You knocked out a fuckin' tooth." Murdoc spit out more blood, just missing the cringing 2-D below him.

2-D was curled in a ball, his body fresh with bruises starting out red, but surely bound to turn puffy, black and blue. His breathing was quiet and Murdoc thought he might have passed out, his eyes shut tightly as he continued to bite his bloody lip. He watched as he slowly opened his eyes as he attempted to speak, his voice again a whisper as he flinched. "I'm," he swallowed, his voice strained. "I'm sorry―I deserved that. I'm sorry."

"Are your hands covered in splinters?" Murdoc inquired, pulling one or two out of his tender lip. "You little shit." He glared down at him. "Get up. Get up, little man."

2-D took his time as he got to his hands and knees, trembling from the whole experience of the past day or so, the pain in his body ebbing away from the extra pills he swallowed. He took far too long for Murdoc's liking, the older man ripping him off the floor with a powerful pull on his arm. Even with age, Murdoc was stronger thought an ailing 2-D, his eyes shut tightly as Murdoc whispered in his ear.

"Want to hit me again?" 2-D shook his head quickly, eyes snapping awake and looking at Murdoc with pure fear, a small bruise forming in the corner of the right. "Good."

2-D was amazed how quickly the older man forgot their mostly one-sided tussle, moving away from 2-D as he turned towards the crate. 2-D swayed, his pain receptors shut off but his body still feeling the effects of the beating. He was thankful for taking two more pills than his recommended dose. He couldn't walk at all, his legs shaking as he swayed back and forth.

"Muds," stated 2-D out loud with a cracking voice, his breathing quickening as he felt light headed.

Murdoc grunted as he continued to search through the shipment, his eyes going bright as he pulled out a few nude magazines. "Hm?"

"I don't," he hesitated as he continued to try and catch his footing, coming dangerously close to falling. "I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna pass out." The last sight 2-D beheld was Murdoc dropping his belongings and catching his taller singer, blacking out as the loud groan the bassist cried faded into nothing.

Murdoc stood where he caught him, studying the unconscious man in his arms. He sighed, debating within his head if he should just leave him there. He scrunched his nose; 2-D had never smelt repulsive to him, but right now he definitely needed a bath. He hadn't showered for at least a couple of days, his five o'clock shadow turning into thick stubble. Murdoc, holding him by his shoulders, stared at him for a moment.

Murdoc was positive he had never seen the younger man with a beard so substantial before. It wasn't as if it was terribly long, but definitely the singer's definition of untidy. The older man laughed as he began to drag him, finding it funny that his beard was cobalt, a few shades darker than his cerulean mane. Murdoc personally wasn't a fan, missing the smooth skin of the singer's face, the beard adding unnecessary maturity. He snorted as he quickly switched his position, not looking back as he dragged him by his arms across the floor.

The grumbling Satanist pulled along his sleeping band mate by his elbows. 2-D was out with his mouth wide open, completely dead weight as Murdoc dragged him, his tongue lolling past his missing front teeth.

Murdoc hauled him across the barred floor, pushing the tarnished button to the lift. He took a deep breath of air, enjoying the thick smell of cigarettes and incense floating through his house, its sharp smell apparent even in the entrance. Yes, this had been his new bachelor pad, all to himself and dressed to the way of his liking.

He wasn't expecting the dullard to freak out this badly; he expected him to bitch and moan in fear, but nothing more than that. He figured he did his singer a favor, knocking him out and cutting out the bits and pieces of anxiety coming over here. Murdoc thought it was better than making 2-D climb up the mucky shores of Plastic Beach, the bassist knowing he'd endure a kicking and screaming Stu through the murky and cold fog. Actually, he probably just would have chloroformed him on the shore and carried him up, cutting off the freak out the singer had for a couple of days. As of now, not knowing that 2-D had awoken much earlier than planned on the trip, Murdoc pitched it off as an overreaction.

"You're a dolt, do you know that D? I wanted to show you around." Murdoc paused even with the doors open to his destination, dragging him out of from the dingy carpet to a mucky tiled floor. The bathroom fit Murdoc's grungy nature, in need of a seriously good cleaning as he then hoisted 2-D into his arms, holding him bridal style and with difficulty as he made his way toward the shower. It was much like a submarine's bathroom, with a stainless steel finish covering every inch of the room. Both the toilet and the shower were small in size, and in need of a serious wash, rusting pipes winding through the tiny spaces the room offered.

Kicking open the shower curtain, he contemplated getting a laugh by dropping 2-D's loose form in the tub, but thought against it as he decided he didn't feel like stitching up his wounds. The singer couldn't sew for his life, his hands far too clumsy with such a small needle. Murdoc huffed as he managed to lower him without spraining his back; it wasn't his weight that was the issue, just his gangly arms that stuck in awkward places as Murdoc nearly toppled down on top of him.

2-D quickly sprawled out, mumbling lightly after Murdoc let go. The bassist rolled his eyes and slapped him across the face, hoping he'd wake him up on the first try. "Get up," There was no response, 2-D's head only falling forward after letting out a comical snore. Murdoc snorted and turned to the shower knobs, turning the fastener for cold water on high as it splashed across Stuart and his clothes.

The singer started to come to, lifting his head before his neck fell slack again. Murdoc chuckled a bit, giving his face another slap, now hitting harder and on a bruise he afflicted earlier. 2-D eyes snapped wide open, his head drawing up as he stared over at his bassist, befuddled and silent as the other lit up a cigarette. "You know, I figured you'd had enough sleep on your little voyage." He took a heavy puff, taking note of how the singer stared at it as if it were a life line as he shut off the tabs. Murdoc offered the fag to him, his singer's long fingers not hesitating as he took a hold and deeply inhaled, letting out the smoke slowly as Murdoc allowed him to keep it.

"Take a shower, I'll meet you upstairs." He removed another cigarette, 2-D finally speaking as he found his voice, sucking down his nicotine hungrily.

"Wait," he hesitated. "Murdoc, I have no idea where we are. This place scares me," his lip quivered, Murdoc looking over his shoulder at the pathetic sight. "Don't go far."

"Wot, am I supposed to scrub your ass? Don't be a baby, trust me, go up the stairs and you'll see me." Murdoc grunted as he started his cigarette. "I gotta look through all that crap that came with you, anyway. Trust me mate, you need a bath. Shave that beard." With that, he swept past the singer to the door and then the elevator, 2-D still lying across the small shower stall as he waited to finish his cigarette.

2-D used the wall to stand, feeling woozy due to the heavy amount of medication he digested. He tore off his clothes, making a disgusted sound at the way they stuck to his body. He must have perspired heavily in his sleep, able to tell it was a cool, clammy sweat. He tossed them to the floor besides him and turned back the dials, thankful as now warm water washed over his body.

He jumped at his sight in the shower's mirror, studying the thick stubble that made him unrecognizable for a moment. He took Murdoc's advice, lathering on shaving cream and shaving away the hair. He finished unscathed, hands running over the soft skin that he preferred. A little hair was fine, but that beard was too much.

He was surprised to find necessitates for showering, knowing Murdoc would use some bathing products scarcely. He inhaled the scented shampoo deeply as he rubbed it through his scalp, his mind wondering back to his band mate. He was still shocked he had the idea to shove let alone swing at the older man, opening his eyes to stare down at the bruises staining his pale flesh. He sighed as the suds washed away, grabbing soap as he scrubbed at his skin with some wincing. He was glad to have a shower, stepping out and grabbing a towel from the linen closet and hastily wrapping it around his hips.

Taking a grab of his clothes and sneakers, he bundled them in his arms as he took a look around the restroom. It looked completely different than Kong's, 2-D hesitantly loosening the wheel to the heavy door to the graffiti elevator, shuddering at the tight space which reminded him of his environment only an hour before. He stepped in, noting the many ash marks littering the lift's carpet, making a face as he avoided them.

He came to see Murdoc resting in a large leather chair besides an impressive library of books. Murdoc looked up from his massive leather-bound novel at the sound of the door to the elevator ringing, 2-D clumsily clamoring out and turning to shut it, even though it needed no assistance. With the singer's back to him, he studied the long, slender legs in front of him, taking a sip of his alcoholic drink as he found himself unable to look away. "Good to see that beard gone."

2-D looked over his shoulder and blushed, fiddling with the dirty clothes in his hands. "Wot did you do wiff my clothes?"

Murdoc pointed to the broken crate, which now resided besides a large wooden desk. 2-D looked over and nearly screamed, giving the squid glaring angrily on the desk a disturbed look before slowly making his way over. He crept by and dug through some of his belongings, looking at the squid every second he could tear his eyes away from his task, immediately noting that some of his things were missing. "Wot about my other stuff? This isn't all my clothes."

"They're on their way; give it a day or so. Had your mum send 'em over." A smirk crept onto Murdoc's lips, the bottom right looking slightly puffy. "Your mum still have huge tits?"

2-D froze in his search for what he was looking for, throwing the evil eye towards the Satanist before looking back for his pants. He hated when he made lewd comments towards his mother, knowing he did it just to get a rouse from 2-D. "What did she say?" he spoke softly, ignoring his rude question, barely avoiding one of the long tentacles of the squid as it swung over his head.

"Y'know, the usual; how she wanted to kick my arse and if I laid a precious finger on her _wittle_ Stuart, she'd castrate me." His spiky smile, still stained beyond brushing, became larger. "I told her I can't keep any promises."

2-D shook his head, but was happy to find the flannel pajama bottoms he was looking for. With the towel still on, he slipped on the red plaid trousers as Murdoc watched from the corner of his eye, hoping 2-D was distracted enough not to notice as he still kept the book on his lap.

The singer threw the towel to the floor with his clothes, Murdoc giving a grunt. "Don't leave 'em on the floor." He pointed towards a small cabinet next to a set of doors. 2-D pulled open the slot and disposed of the dirty articles, turning to Murdoc wearing just his pajama pants. Murdoc put down his book, studying the way the singer still looked so young, his hair tousled and his stomach still a flat plane of white skin. 2-D was distracted as he fiddled with drawstring on his pants, Murdoc finding his slow mindset a blessing at the moment. Gave him a moment to study his happy trail, which unsurprisingly was the same color as that beard.

"This place looks huge." Was all 2-D stated, looking upwards at Murdoc who had changed his view quickly enough to his text. "Wot did you do with Kong?"

'_Now it starts_,' was Murdoc thought as he let out a deep sigh, closing the cover to his novel and standing from his seat. Without looking at his singer, he walked towards the large desk and took a seat in a chair similar to the one he just occupied, but instead a massive rip had sliced through the leather. Stuffing had leaked from the tear, afflicted with small pecks like some type of avian had done work on it. Murdoc studied 2-D for a peaceful moment as he kicked off his boots, leaving them to the floor in front of his large, unsightly feet. "Take a seat, dullard." 2-D stood still for a moment, slowly pulling the chair Murdoc left with an inelegant sound as its legs scuffed across the ground. Slowly, 2-D's own bare feet made their way across the floor to face Murdoc's own, sitting in the chair and saying nothing about the way it creaked, the light from the circular window draping across him.

Murdoc sat quiet at first, looking over the newly afflicted bruises he put on 2-D. There was the one across his cheek, the other on the opposite eye, and one looking large and painful across his ribcage. There was a small one on his stomach, as well as one that disappeared below the loose pants. Before he spoke, he made use of his villainous glower, directing it towards the squid before the creature's gaze softened, sliding off the desk and raising itself upwards in movement. 2-D looked in fright and scooted towards the opposite side of the chair, not relaxing until the Squid disappeared up the stairs. Murdoc sighed again and ran long nails through his shaggy hair, trying to find a graceful way to put it.

"I burnt it down."

Murdoc knew there could be no easy way, and thought 2-D's eyes were going to pop back to normal as he looked at him alert and shocked. His bags look so pronounced, showing his years of thirty-one as he stared in awe.

"Burnt it down?" Murdoc was happy; '_Finally, he shows some age_'. "Are you serious? Wot about our possessions, wot about the Winne―"

"Don't worry about it," Murdoc assured as he looked at his nails, crossing his legs as he lit up a cigarette. He offered one to 2-D as well, who happily accepted and flared it immediately. "I moved a bunch of crap here; got you a room to yourself. Look, Kong was fallin' apart, dullard. It was becoming worse and worse every day, Christ; a piece of ceilin' almost fell right on me."

"You jus'" 2-D gestured with his hand, throwing it in the air as he looked back to Murdoc with a dead-pan blink. "Burnt it down? How?"

"Bunch of kerosene, some matches." He smiled slightly. "It was a beautiful sight, must say. Got everythin' I needed, jumped into the helicopter after watchin' it burn for a bit, and went on my way. Collected some insurance money and here we are, the new Studios," he raised a finger before 2-D could speak. "But don't fret; I moved some of the remainin' pieces of Kong with me, as you will see on our tour."

Murdoc stood and began to walk towards the next room, moving to twin doors and grasping the handles.

"Where is Noodle?" '_Fuck,_' Murdoc seethed to himself. '_It can never be easy, can it?_'

Murdoc froze in his spot, resenting this question even more than the previous one. He was praying to Satan that 2-D's faulty memory would kick in and he'd at least forget about her for a few days, but he knew with how close the two had gotten over the years together that such ideas were foolish. He turned back to sit within the worn in chair, itching his chin uncomfortably.

"Stu," 2-D sat up, his shoulders going rigidly straight at his childhood nickname, smoke from the men's respective cigarettes wafting between them. "When you called me," once again, the man who usually seemed to always have something to say paused, gentle words escaping him. "I was still in hell, lookin' for Noodle."

2-D at first said nothing, his fingers nervously strumming across one of the arm rests'. "About the time you said you found her?" Murdoc looked from his own wringing hands below the desk to his stare, finding himself unable to hold eye contact with 2-D. Murdoc had a history of saying the wrong things on such occasions; expressing himself in a positive manner was somewhat difficult. He had a hard time with people's feelings, his mannerisms not known for delicacy and the ability to comfort.

"When I said I found her, I had already been in there for a week," he took a heavy drag off his fag, ditching it in the heavily littered ashtray. "I found her guitar strap, and I was on my way past the Lake of Souls when you called. Amazin' you can get reception down there." He snorted with humor, yet 2-D said nothing as Murdoc continued. "I was down there for about six months."

"You were in hell for six months?!"

"Yeah," Murdoc lit up another cigarette, happy to have ordered a few dozen cartons along with 2-D. "2-D, I never found her." He decided to say it out of the blue, unable to think of a proper way to address it. If he sat and dwelled, he would have never found the heart to even mutter it, not looking up a few seconds towards his silent friend.

2-D sat completely still, the thick smog of cigarette the only movement from the two men. Murdoc finally looked up from floor towards his singer, watching him stare off into nothing brainlessly. He was a complete mask of stone as he didn't respond, Murdoc unsure if his medication even granted him to grasp the full concept of the statement.

"Really?" 2-D said with a surprising half-hearted laugh as he glimpsed up at his bassist and Murdoc finally looked at him. He said nothing, blank faced himself as he gestured with his head. 2-D slowly nodded himself, looking back towards the spot he once gazed off, as if the wall behind Murdoc became suddenly interesting.

Murdoc stood up almost immediately, as if the tension was making him ill. "Drink?" 2-D said nothing, still staring off and blinking as if he was processing the whole information. "Alright then," Murdoc turned and left 2-D to himself, shaking his head and rubbing his palms into his blood shot eyes. After taking a piss, retrieving a drink was the first thing he'd perform at the start of each day, and today was no different. He was unsure if he was even sober enough to handle his singer's grief, well into his eighth glass of rum.

With his back to 2-D the whole time, Murdoc turned towards an inconspicuous globe and pulled it open, revealing multiple bottles of his treasured liquor. He pulled out two beers, placing them in the crooks of his elbows. He looked to the massive window to his right, putting off recognizing the other man for as long as possible as neither muttered a phrase. Murdoc studied the usual weather of raging storms outside, the clouds swirling in assurance of a storm. He looked to the rest of the space that housed the familiar jukebox, his beautifully arranged theater, a skeleton in an ancient scuba suit, and his precious piranha's.

Murdoc was horrible at these situations, and he really didn't know what to expect when he turned around. Since he was a child, crying was discouraged in his household, his virulent father not allowing it under his iron-fisted parenting. He and his brother were berated even when shedding a single tear, their age not making a difference on his father's belief. Murdoc could recall receiving a few smacks if he ever showed such weakness. It was a taboo subject in Murdoc's mind, even when it came to females. Murdoc just found difficulty in giving comfort, usually opting to be the one to remain quiet in fear of saying something nasty.

'_I can't do it,_' Murdoc thought, placing down the goods in his arms as a smirk ran across his face. '_Not without a shot._' Murdoc pulled out a shot glass from the split earth model, examining it before pouring in Patron. He filled it to the brim, contemplating bringing one to 2-D but thought against it. He swallowed it down without flinching, leaving it on the edge surrounding the globe as he grabbed the previous belongings.

Murdoc traveled past the stairway, moving towards the side facing the library and pulling out a cardboard box. He swept off the messy array of books covering it with a loud 'SLAM', dusting it off before pulling out a group of bananas. He had seen 2-D eat them in the past, and had remembered to grab a collection of them for the vegetarian. He turned to finally face him, his movements coming to a lag quickly. He already wanted to turn back, hating the way his heart clenched at the sound of soft sobbing. Murdoc moved closer, slow and quiet in his steps as he approached 2-D, who was reclined over with his face in his hands as he refused to acknowledge him. The quiet Satanist took a seat across from him once more, taking note of the tears that ran past his hidden eyes, sliding past his palms as they fell to his pant legs.

Murdoc opened his beer, looking to the side as he sipped it, still unable to speak to his singer at the moment. He was feeling guilty, an emotion he usually tried to disassociate himself from. But he was finding it even harder as 2-D's trembling lips finally broke, letting out a weep in front of the other.

"She's dead?" 2-D finally lifted his head, his hair looking even more unruly despite being wet as he gazed at Murdoc with detriment.

"I didn't say that." Murdoc responded calmly, still not looking over as he lit a cigarette. 2-D took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair.

"You didn't find her."

"No."

"So she's dead!" 2-D stood, Murdoc trying his best not to hit him in such a sensitive state.

"2-D," Murdoc sipped his beer, opening the other before handing it in his direction. "It's taking all my power not to smack you, and I don't want to do that right now. Sit down, take this beer, I didn't finish speaking."

2-D said nothing for a moment, studying his bassist for a moment before taking the beer, sitting down as he remembered how he appeared. He whipped away his tears and refused to look at Murdoc, the older man taking notice of the small flare of color that tinted his face.

"That doesn't mean she is dead," he pulled out a cigarette for 2-D, throwing it towards him even though he didn't move to grab it, even as it landed on his lap. "She is a strong girl, 2-D. I spent six months lookin' for her, nothin'. She made that message D; the one to the Brian room. She's smart, too; she found that parachute."

2-D still said nothing, instead sipping his beer before looking back to Murdoc. "Are those bananas?" he said out of nowhere, his small attention span finally catching their yellow and ripe sight. "Can I have one?" he couldn't help it, he felt himself salivating along with his stomach rumbles.

"I guess," Murdoc liked the excuse to change the subject, grinning as he tore one off and threw it to 2-D. After catching it with a close fumble, he sat up as he undid the leathery outer skin, basically taking the whole thing into his mouth as he took a bite. The bassist raised an eyebrow, his lips making an 'o' shape as he threw him the whole bunch. "Someone is hungry."

2-D nodded, not eating for days in his wooden prison, and even though he slept through most of his hunger, felt it return full force at the sight of the fruit. 2-D devoured the whole rest of the bunch as Murdoc watched on, gulping down his beer as he fumed quietly in his spot. He knew he truly hit a low if he was really getting ideas at the sight of 2-D eating a banana, after such an emotional and serious speech. Yet he couldn't help it, it was as if 2-D was eating that fruit to tease him, Murdoc's perverted brain slowing the image as he took it between his lips.

Murdoc's thoughts were broken by him burping, impressed that the singer had eaten the whole bunch in such a short amount of time. He was so thin; he didn't know where he put it. He remembered again he was shirtless, but made sure no further dirty thoughts were conjured by his lean form. It appeared the singer wasn't the only one afflicted by _certain_ memories; just his band leader could cope with it better.

"How does someone escape Hell?" 2-D spoke weakly, his hands now loose on his lap as the comfort of eating disappeared with their past conversation. He took his beer and cigarette, lighting the nicotine and sipping his ale. "Murdoc," his pout began to tremor again, Murdoc giving a sigh as he put his hand to his forehead.

'_Never fuckin' easy,_' thought Murdoc as he finished every drop of his beer, slamming it down on to the wood. "Don't worry about it, 2-D. Forget about it."

"Forget about it?" 2-D stood up abruptly, moving away for a moment before walking back. "Murdoc, how could you say that!? Noodle, Noodle was one of us. She was a Gorillaz! She was our FAMILY!"

"Shut up," snarled Murdoc, his fist thrown down to the counter as well. "I didn't tell you right away for this fuckin' reason; you were going to flip the hell out, of course. Surprise, surprise you're too fuckin' pansy to handle it!"

"Fuck you, Murdoc!" tears again had threatened to sprout from his eyes. "Take me to my room. Jus' take me to my room, I am exhausted, and I didn't even want to be here!"

Murdoc finally stood, shifting towards his singer before smacking him across the face. 2-D made a small noise but nothing more as he stared over wide eyed at his bassist, taking even breaths and not flinching as he awaited his next move. Murdoc lowered his hand and walked past 2-D, now the one to pace as he frantically spoke.

"I've had plenty of fuckin' time to think about it in, I don't know, Hades? _Fuckin' Hades_! I had to walk through it and fuckin' back, with a shit ton of things on my fuckin' mind. We raised her, cared for her and we were all she had." Murdoc looked over his shoulder. "I didn't want to let her go, but I did. If she wants to show her face, she will. She's a god damn super solider, 2-D; she would fare down there better than anyone,"

"You want to go to your fuckin' room, fine." Murdoc grabbed 2-D and threw him towards the elevator the singer nearly falling over his clumsy feet. "Let's fuckin' go." Murdoc was steaming, and knew if he spent one more moment listening to his singer snivel he would lose it. He pushed past him as he walked on after the doors groaned open, quickly snatching another beer as 2-D timidly followed the other inside.

The trip was completely silent except for Murdoc mumbling incoherently, but 2-D could spot from the tone it was anything but pleasant. He didn't look up at Murdoc as a single tear broke from its perch, shivering silently in his spot as he felt the winch travel deeper and deeper into the heart of the building.

Murdoc stalked inside what appeared to be a level of the basement, Murdoc's eyes narrowing as he gave a growl. "Come in." It was a command that 2-D followed, not wanting the other's famous temper to sky rocket. He knew he was on thin ice, and even if he felt justified in his feelings knew that Murdoc's rage would prevent a proper case.

The singer moved towards his room, switching on the light and revealing a pile of boxes and crates similar to the one he was shipped in, his bed without sheets as it sat untouched. Murdoc lit a cigarette and dug through his pocket, taking out a fresh pack and chucking it across the room.

"Here," he began to wander away, opening his beer as he began to move towards the elevator. He froze for a minute and switched abruptly to the singer, taking 2-D by surprise. "DON'T OPEN THOSE FUCKIN' CURTIAINS!"

2-D, who was about to do just that, tore his hands away as if he had touched boiling water. Satisfied with his jittery reaction, Murdoc turned back to the elevator, 2-D rushing forward and sticking his arm in to refrain it from closing.

"Murdoc, wait!" the doors slid open with a 'ding', 2-D feeling his glare as he stared at his long toes. He was terrified, but knew it was only right to apologize. "I'm sorry; it's jus' a lot of news." He finally looked upwards, his bags magnifying as he sniffled.

"Forget it, 2-D. Forget about the whole thing. I don't want to hear about it tomorrow. Nothin'." 2-D nodded slowly, and Murdoc took it despite knowing it was lukewarm. "Set your room up, go to bed, and be in the study at one. After a quick tour, were spendin' the day in the studio." He took a drag of his own cigarette, looking over his half-naked singer once more. "Sleep it off, dullard." He spoke softly, pushing the knob in the elevator to force them shut.

2-D was left alone, immediately entering his room and shuddering from the breezy, dark and slightly industrial atmosphere. For a moment he studied the curtains, hearing Murdoc's rule of not tossing them open, shuddering at the ominous feeling that strangely was forming in his gut. The forewarning was easily forgotten with his short attention span, taking notice to an odd pile occupying the room, moving towards it past the congregation of boxes. He identified his soiled clothes, looking up to the laundry chute that deposited them.

"God damn it."

---

Thank you to those who have reviewed and of course, taken the time to read the story. There was an error in the summary before? Hope that didn't turn anyone off. Any questions, comments, insults, please let them fly. Just so you know, this is my own interrpertation of Plastic Beach, so things may not exactly be on par; hope you don't let this ruin your story.

Rate and Reviews are nice. Hope you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Murdoc/2-D; drug use; mentions of sex (will get steadily more graphic); stuff. Please, if this really makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't suggest reading it.  
Genres: General/Romance/Angst  
Full Summary: With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader. Murdoc has only seemed to fall more crazed and outlandish in his ideas, his sanity and sobriety seeming to deteriorate like his health. Murdoc's lies continue at a steady pace, 2-D unsure how to separate the fibs from the truth. Will it be Murdoc who wraps 2-D around his finger, or the other way around?

This chapter has masturbation.

2-D stepped towards the boxes piled in the center of the room, unsurprisingly restless since his drug induced journey, pulling out the first of the parcels in reach before tearing the paper open. He was happy to find his old pink comforter, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders as he sought the familiar comfort. Many of his contents from Kong were missing, 2-D giving a sigh as he found only a collection of sparse clothing and shoes, some of his trainers missing their mate.

His banjo he was relieved to find, sitting Indian style in the empty room with his blanket tied around his collar bone, plucking a few strings. He tuned it for what felt like ages, finding it relaxing with a cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth, helping him cope in the strange, foreboding environment which was now his. He didn't bother to put away the tossed clothes he already had strewn across the room, standing to grab his sheets and place them on the naked mattress. Stu flopped down with his comforter thrown across him, lying on his back as he stared at the cracked and weathered ceiling.

'_I need to tell mum to send my lamp,_' 2-D looked around in the dark, giving a shiver. '_An' for a load of otha stuff._'

The singer remembered having his cell phone before being gassed, and only hoped that it was in the remnants of the possessions he left upstairs. 2-D wondered what else Murdoc managed to stuff into the crate with him, and told himself tomorrow he'd retrieve his phone to contact his mother. More than likely after Murdoc's call she was having a fit, worried over her only son and where the hell he could be.

2-D lit up another cigarette, finding it a relaxing vice when nervous, something he was definitely afflicted with in the cold, new, and without a doubt eerie setting. He stared at the rusted and jutting pipes decorating his room, one larger and thicker than he, scrutinizing it with wide eyes. He took another drag, glaring about the place, trying to find where the petulant sound of a dripping pipe rang from, until his elbow smacked into the purple curtain above him.

It moved a bit, giving a small glimpse of a circular window resting behind it, but shifted quickly back into place. 2-D stared at it before raising his hand to feel the soft violet drapes, but heard Murdoc's caution ring clear in his subconscious and hesitated. When Murdoc screamed, 2-D knew from past experience it was best to listen.

Something deep inside told a curious Stu Pot to open it. '_You might not like the answer,_' responded somewhere deep in retaliation, 2-D curling up on his side and nuzzling his pillow with a sordid look in his eyes. He reached to ash what seemed like his tenth cigarette on the flap of one of the empty boxes, his hand lazily swinging back as he dropped it to his side.

Stu sat up a bit, reaching for a cassette player that managed to make it over with the few possessions that came. He stuck in a mix tape he created some time ago, keeping it low as he moved back to lie down. As he tried to get comfortable for at least the third time, he entwined with the comforter on his bed, the music beginning to play softly. 2-D's inky eyes were spacious as he stared at the decaying wall in front of him, alone with only his thoughts. Noodle had easily sauntered into his memories, her smile and laughter haunting him as he hid his face in his bed's cushion.

2-D once again felt tears well at the corner of his damaged eyes, letting them fall free and stain his pillow in the privacy of his room. His shoulders shook as he suppressed a sob. How could Murdoc dare to suggest forgetting about it? Like it was nothing, like one day the guitarist would just show up on the shores of Plastic Beach, running and smiling as if the bowels of Hell didn't traumatize her.

2-D thought back to Murdoc's journey to Hades; did that even happen? Or could it have been hallucination conjured up by his ridiculous thoughts and alcoholic habit. 2-D just knew that Murdoc was once again being elusive, not telling him the whole truth back in his library. Murdoc just sat silent, which didn't surprise 2-D, the more emotional of the two actually giving the other credit despite his avoidance of showing consolation. Murdoc handled it a lot better than he would have thought, being so openly uncomfortable in occasions of such sensitivity.

How could 2-D and Murdoc make a CD without Noodle; not just Noodle, but Russel? The two hadn't even discussed their MIA drummer, neither hearing from him since Demon Days. It didn't come as big of a shock, with Russel having so many issues with the spiritual world and his psyche, not to mention the producing he was most likely participating in. It was just Murdoc and 2-D, his stomach at the realization dropping to what felt like his ankles.

As he sat up, he raised his arm to wipe the tears from his deep set eyes before moving to the ledge on his right, grabbing the smokes Murdoc tossed into the room. He lit up and inhaled, his shoulders going slack as he leaned against his heard board pensively. What if Noodle was still alive? Where could she be, and what on earth made her so secretive in her whereabouts? 2-D would never know, at least while not on this island.

He was still tireless and constantly shifting in vain attempts to sleep, but he flopped back down on the bed, the curtains moving once again with him.

'_It can't be that bad, can it?_' he said, the vocalist wide awake and definitely not amused in his empty environment. Long fingers took a hold of the curtain's material, telling himself this as he ripped them open, sitting on his knobby knees to get a good look.

What he found was a window; a completely round circle, lacking muntin dividers on the pane, a complete glass shield opening to the ocean. He stared out, giving a blink, not at all getting what Murdoc was going on about.

2-D's snooping certainly got the best of him and for the worst. There was a particular reason why Murdoc had forbid 2-D to look outside that very window.

"Fuck yes," Murdoc flipped the box of the DVD over in his clawed hand, taking the time to look over the text that detailed the back, as well as the attractive and naked female standing besides it. "Forgot all about orderin' you."

The forty-three year old lay comfortably down his bed, which at this time of night had the comforter kicked to his feet to leave him unrestricted. Murdoc rested within the soiled sheets messed with various stains, ignoring a huge slash that ran over the material as feathers spewed forth. The jade man over looked it with ease, as well as the various hats sprawled across the floor with no explanation. His servant (who was treated more along the likes of a slave), would dutifully make Murdoc's bed every day after the old man grouchily tumbled out of it, fixing the patterned blanket and decorating it with Murdoc's collection of caps. It would lie looking untouched before their owner would flop right back down on them purposely and roll about, getting a thrill out of ruining chores of the many Tattoo had to perform.

The mattress was fairly wide, much larger than the one that occupied the Winne, and although it had a few classic 'Murdoc-esque' blemishes, was fairly cleaner than the last one. Murdoc had even managed to get most of his ash in the ashtray besides the nightstand's digital clock, which was now pushed further towards his Mickey Mouse telephone as a supply of Jameson rested at the edge.

The bassist reached for the flask shaped bottle, opening the cap and sipping it gingerly. "Where were we?" he dropped the DVD besides his bare leg before shifting to his alcohol, Murdoc only in his dirtied y-front skivvies and shirt from earlier, now unbuttoned to expose his ribcage down to his slightly rounded belly. He itched at his happy trail but didn't remove his hand from the curls as he picked up the box one final time, reading the name out loud. "'Free My Willy'―bring it on."

Murdoc had ordered a collection of pornography to his home, including wonderful titles such as _Star Whores_, _Pulp Friction_, and _Throbin Hood (Prince of Beaves)_. Murdoc always took his porno collection seriously, having most of the movies in alphabetical order or by year, much like his prized records. He reached under his pillow after throwing the cover to the floor, pulling out his remote after one quick gulp of alcohol. He pointed it towards a small and elder television set, not at all close to comparing to the theater system within the lobby, the screen a bit snowy as it switched on. It was clear enough to allow an image to come on screen, Murdoc unable to stop his unsightly hand from lowering past the waistband.

Even though the film had just started, the female's moans were getting progressively louder (not to mention a little -too- theatrical) and Murdoc could feel himself become hard in seconds. He didn't know what the fuck the movie had to do about a whale, but didn't care as he lowered his drawers a bit, whipping out his rapidly hardening cock.

"Mmmmm, you dirty lil' bird," he spoke as he watched with the hunger of a starving man. Murdoc first skimmed the head of his length with his thumb gently, moving quickly as he took hold of himself with a firmer grasp, sliding his skilled fingers down at a steady pace to produce wanted friction. He bit his lip, despite it still afflicted with pain from the hit that 2-D swung, switching his gaze from the work he began on his painfully erect dick to the screen. Suddenly his head threw back to the fluffy pillows behind him as he let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he began to get lost to the woman's repeating moans. Murdoc now masturbated regularly within the lonely confines of Plastic Beach, considering himself the only real inhabitant of his plastic palace, not really counting Tattoo as a formidable human being.

He was used to spending his nights alone, quiet except for the many movies he began to collect years ago, filled with pathetic acting jobs of yearn and sexual desire, and yet like many men ate it up like a fine delicacy.

Murdoc's thrusting into his hand began to slow at the sound of a cry, at first faint but gradually getting louder as the seconds ticked by. Murdoc froze completely, paused in his self administrations as he grabbed the remote, pressing the button for the volume to lower it.

"Faceache," he whispered to himself, immediately identifying the shrill yells to be his as he managed to push himself up. He stopped as he felt his prick throb, staring at it wet with some precum before switching his gaze to the screen, seeing a close up of the female on the back of the box caught in a ecstatic groan. Another yell made up his mind as he tucked himself back within his underwear, standing as he used the posts jutting from the headboard for support.

He was definitely intoxicated, the room looking disoriented as he moved towards a large cardboard box, one that appeared to house a disassembled rowing machine. He moved it from against the wall, almost falling forward with it as his mind raced, happy to see a double-barreled shot gun hidden behind it. Scooping it up, Murdoc flipped open the nozzle as he assured himself it was loaded. With heavy, barefoot steps, he wasted no time as he moved towards the steel door to throw its wheel to the left and slam it open, just missing the glass case set against the grainy walls. He moved back towards the elevator, stumbling a bit in his movements, praying to Satan it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Murdoc pushed the button to the elevator, 2-D's screams only getting louder and more crazed. "Fucking dullard, relax!" Murdoc barked to only himself, although deep down his own bout of terror was devouring him. The possibilities of what he could open the door was endless. It wasn't the former Zombies of Kong that had once afflicted the band that frightened him, now the culprit of his fears being Murdoc's own personal nuisance.

'_How could they have gotten down there?_' he was baffled, the elevator seeming slower than usual as the doors pulled open. Before entering, he ran to his bed and didn't bother to throw pants on, choosing to take a hold of the flask of whiskey. He ran back to the elevator, which sat open only to amplify 2-D's shouts as they left the shaft, the man coming close to falling with his artillery over the mess blocking the lift.

Cursing heavily as he managed to catch himself by the door, his eyesight remained devastatingly blurry as he searched for the button to 2-D's room. He pressed it a few times, continuing to berate his mind with worrying questions. '_Fucking pirates, fucking pirates,_' continued in his head, clutching his gun tighter to himself. "If you fuck with my singer, I swear," He swayed as he mumbled to himself, knowing the way his heart raced was definitely not good for his health. "He didn' even sing nothin' yet!"

Murdoc was growing impatient with the elevators lagging pace, quickly sobering up as 2-D's skrieking got louder and more aggressive. He ripped the cap off his alcohol and gulped the remaining liquid with ease, which was impressive considering the bottle was at one point pleasantly full. Murdoc ripped it away and threw it to the ground, satisfied it didn't smash, wiping his arm over his wet lips. Murdoc was (dare say it) worried, but if the dullard kept screaming like a banshee, Murdoc figured he was well enough to shout bloody murder.

As the doors began to separate, he slipped his body past before they had room to fully open, nearly tripping on his way out before attempting to stand straight. Murdoc tried to steady his gaze across the room, stilling his eyesight as he clutched the gun in both hands. "Wot? Wot are you screamin' about?" There was no one; no one but 2-D huddled under his familiar pink blanket, hiding under it as he continued to yell, his screams now muffled by the warm material.

Murdoc stared, still rocking a bit in his spot of the room, the bassist unsure if this was a joke or not as he lowered the gun to the floor softly. He moved towards 2-D, ripping off the cloth to reveal his hiding space, ignoring the whine he gave as he took him with both hands by the neck. The whimper became warped and strangled as 2-D crossed his damaged eyes, cutting it short with the sickening sounds of him being choked. This didn't quell his struggling, the younger man squirming in Murdoc's grasp like an unearthed worm.

"Are you kiddin' me!" Murdoc was beyond furious, completely seeing red as he ignored the tiny flecks fluttering between them from the ceiling, scattering downwards from the impact of 2-D's thick skull. At this point the singer was trying desperately to speak yet Murdoc wouldn't have it; Stu instantly noticed how heavily his breath smelt of alcohol. "I was about to bust a God damn nut!"

If 2-D blushed heavily, it was un-noticeable with how crimson his face was becoming as Murdoc's grip didn't lighten, the older man pumped full of adrenaline as he spoke menacingly to his singer. "I thought I hit sense into you in the fuckin' foyer!"

2-D watched with utter dread as Murdoc removed a hand from his neck and elevated it in warning, the singer trashing wildly as he remembered the use of the arms glued to his side. A shaky finger raised and pointed towards the window, the bassist's reaction slow as he took his time looking away from his captive, whose face was changing into an interesting shade of indigo.

Murdoc stared across the room towards 2-D's guiding hand, his breath still heavy from the rush of anxiety and alcohol as he slowly smiled, looking back to 2-D as he released his hold. 2-D fell to the floor in a hysterical heap, only continuing to writhe as he curled up into the wall, shaking violently as he mumbled incoherently.

Some years ago, all four band members of Gorillaz traveled to an aquarium, only one of their team not so reluctant to attend. Noodle was young and begging to go in her natural tongue of Japanese, Russel insisting they all attend; the New York native was willing to do anything in his power to please the young girl who had only recently joined their group. It was an attempt to 'bond', Murdoc not having much interest whatsoever but had actually agreed to tag along with no more complaining than usual. He had managed to talk 2-D into smoking before the trip, the two men sucking down a spliff before entering the Jeep, Murdoc with sunglasses on to hide his bloodshot eyes. 2-D giggled in the backseat, laughing hysterically at the Satanists jokes throughout the whole trip.

Everything had been going well, the strange group of friends having a peaceful time, Noodle enjoying the animals the most. She would chatter on, the men not understanding a word she was saying, the four of them looking as odd as ever, a normality when they entered public places.

"Yo guys, Noodle wants to see the whales." Russel held Noodle's hand, the girl pointing and continuing to go on in Japanese, her entourage disregarding her as she spoke.

Murdoc snorted, scratching under his arm as he shrugged. "I need a fuckin' cigarette, I'll pass."

"Me too!" the singer spoke quickly, the two other men looking over with raised eyebrows, 2-D continuing with a nervous smile, taping the tips of his fingers in tandem. "Y'know," he cleared his throat. "S'been like over an hour or so."

"Yeah, we'll meet you when it's over." Murdoc spoke gently, still eyeing a fidgeting 2-D before looking back to Russel. "We'll let you have all the fun."

Russel rolled his eyes, being pulled towards the hall to the whale exhibit by the shockingly powerful child, who continued speaking happily in the only language she knew at the time. Murdoc and 2-D made their way to the closest exit, lighting up a cigarette and taking a much needed gulp of nicotine.

"This sucks. Fish are borin'―Borin'an' dumb."

2-D shrugged. "Yeah, my high wore off afta them penguins. Man, where they cute."

"Cute? You're such a queer." Murdoc laughed, 2-D blushing as he haughtily puffed his cigarette.

"Nu-uh, am not!"

"Oh yeah?" Murdoc's grin grew demeaning, taking a needed inhale and holding in his smoke. "Then why did you seem so nervous about them whales, faceache?" A cloud of fog emitted from Murdoc's crooked nose, 2-D looking down as if he were guilty as the Satanist dragged on. "Don't think I didn' catch that."

2-D went ridged, immediately avoiding eye contact as he looked towards his feet. "Dunno."

"Dunno?" repeated Murdoc as he pulled off the wall he leaned against, bringing himself close to 2-D as if the mocking wasn't enough to hit home. "Wot, don't trust to tell me?" he said it with a bit of laughter as smoke billowed into Stu's visage. "Tell me, you're scared."

"Shut up," 2-D didn't know how to retaliate, the blush that had gathered before returning tenfold as he stared down at Murdoc, turning away as if it would make the question disappear; despite 2-D's eyes being undecipherable at times, they were the reason Murdoc didn't have to hear the words come out of his mouth.

"You're so weird―whales? When the hell do you expect to meet a whale?"

A shrill scream broke through his hazy thoughts and brought him back to reality, 2-D breathing not remotely normal as it sounded strangled, his hair standing on multiple ends. He stood up, moving towards Murdoc like a caged animal, screaming as he motioned back towards the window.

"GET IT AWAY! PLEASE!" he took in a deep breath. "IT WON'T STOP LOOKIN' AT ME!"

Murdoc stepped back from the taller man, moving towards the opening in question and leaning inwards, but made no movement to close it. He made eye contact with 2-D's offender, mesmerized by the massive pupil possibly the size of a baseball, before the gleaming eye blinked and broke their stare down. His intoxication returned with renewed vigor, smirking once again as he looked towards 2-D sardonically.

"An' here is me gettin' all worked up—silly me." He studied the singer, who looked at Murdoc as if he was the one who was screaming like a lunatic, his whole body shivering as he quickly pulled his quivering hand back to himself, as if the whale would somehow rip it off.

"Please Murdoc, I'm begging you," His chest was heaving up and down, the man swaying as if he was in some type of trance as his hands cradled themselves. He moved back to the blanket on the floor, digging his face into it before looking back towards the eye glaring into the room, his breathing only increasing.

Murdoc let out a laugh, unable to help himself, hitting his knee as he continued to chuckle before falling carelessly to the bed. "2-D, relax, it only eats, y'know, krill, it's not even technically a carnivo-"

"I DON'T CARE!" he swallowed, ripping the blanket off his head as he lay half way on the floor, speaking to Murdoc with a growl. "GO AWAY!" Murdoc was shocked by his snarl. "Get it away, or go away." His last phrase was spoken in a whisper; he reminded Murdoc of some type of small dog, which was frightened yet baring its teeth in defense.

"Relax, dullard; jeez," he moved towards the window again with a pout now that his fun was ruined, 2-D's eyes never leaving him as if he was the beast himself, drawing his feet inward and scooting towards the wall with no exit. With the men having an extensive past together, Murdoc had seen 2-D scared of a strange assortment of things; sometimes the older man was the reason to this, but never in such a wreck of a state that he was in now.

Murdoc's clawed hands found the curtain after propping the forgotten shot gun against the wall, looking over to 2-D prior to closing it. Stu was beginning to scoot towards the door with his eyes still wide, his gray bags massive as every inch of 2-D spasm in alarm. Finally he swept them shut and 2-D instantly stilled, as if the encounter had never happened.

"Fank you Murdoc, I dunno wot came-" before 2-D could finish his sentence, Murdoc had maneuvered over clumsily in his drunken state, grabbing him roughly by the chin and forcing the younger man to look upwards. 2-D's large eyes strangely glimmered as he met Murdoc's mismatched, the bassist glaring down yet not nearly as forceful as a few moments ago.

"Who the fuck," he paused; looking towards the covered pane before he once again met the singer's stare. "Is scared of whales?"

2-D was about to speak before he remembered Murdoc's statement from before, looking downwards before quickly averting his eyesight from Murdoc's bulge. Switching his sight earnestly to the side, he managed to respond with a rasped voice due to the strain Murdoc left only moments before on his throat.

"Um," Murdoc had definitely noticed, 2-D not enjoying the spiky leer that broke across his green complexion.

Murdoc didn't say a word at first; his mouth opened before closing back shut, an eyebrow rising as his sneer lingered.

"Wow, dullard―that wasn' even subtle." He snickered. "Good to see you're well enough to stare at my junk."

2-D's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he stared up, looking like a deer in flood lights as his shoulders drooped. He was taking care not to remove his eyesight from Murdoc's own, completely far too mortified to glimpse lower than eye level again. It didn't help that he was in a close proximity to Murdoc's package, which was only covered by the thin material of his briefs.

"Mmm," Murdoc stared down at 2-D in this position, and he couldn't help but to lengthen his grin, enjoying the sight of 2-D on his knees in front of him, and immediate lustful thoughts entered his twisted head. '_So this is what 2-D would look like on this level._'

Oh, what a wonderful thought.

"Um," Murdoc's dreams were shattered by his muse's thick Cockney accent. "'M sorry―I dunno where this fear comes from. It's always been wiff me. No one really ever knew about it, 'cept you."

Murdoc almost felt sorry for exploiting 2-D's phobia, but felt it was justified for the filthy thoughts that the skinny male was plaguing him with.

"I blacked out." 2-D wanted to look at anything but Murdoc, switching his gaze instead to the floor as he finished.

"Hm," Murdoc finally pulled his hand to himself, knowing that if it loitered any longer, the semi that was beginning to redevelop would afflict him full force. '_History repeats itself._'

Murdoc, who failed to notice the room being less empty in his panic (which he could never muster enough courage to admit), took a peak around as his feet moved on their own accord, shuffling awkwardly backwards onto the bed as he took a seat. Murdoc sat with his back to the wall besides the window, the singer feeling more comfortable staring at his bassist than that gateway to Hell.

"Fuck," Murdoc rubbed a hand over his face, the boost of hormones moving him quickly to 2-D's room had completely dissipated; now the alcohol made his bones feel like jelly. "I'm wasted." The room was beginning to spin in a mix of colors, the singer becoming concerned.

"Are you awright?"

"Shut up," Murdoc hiccupped as he managed to fall on his side to the bed, but his eyes remained open, although heavily lidded. "You fuckin owe me—beer, now."

2-D stood up at the order and nodded, feeling it was only proper after 'interrupting' Murdoc. '_After all,_' 2-D pondered. '_Seems like he rushed to get down here._'

"Of course!" he paused for a moment and he rubbed his chin. "Where is it?"

"In the globe, dentface" he shook his head where he lay, letting the side of it hit 2-D's pillow; the world was definitely whirling, even closing his eyes didn't help matters. "Quickly."

"Awright, I will." He assured Murdoc who said nothing in return, 2-D unsure if he passed out on his mattress. He did what he requested although his unconsciousness was extremely possible, moving quietly to stand over him and take a hold of the flashlight sitting too close to the window. He shuddered and pulled it to himself quickly, turning to the elevator to push the knob to Plastic Beach's study.

He entered the elevator, looking up to the flickering bulb above, relieved to see it on. The lift shuddered to a stop at the library, opening the doors to allow 2-D entrance. The room was pitch black excluding faint moonlight illuminating a small patch from the window, 2-D with quivering fingers flipping up the switch to his flash light.

After moving the light across the scenery to get a grip of his surroundings, he moved forward, happy to find the globe not too far from the elevator's location. He found the lever as he pulled up the top half of the model, revealing multiple shaped and colored bottles stashed away. 2-D pulled a few of them up to study the labels, recognizing a few but definitely not all of them; Murdoc had certainly expanded to his already massive selection.

2-D pulled out two bottled beers from the location, closing it back up before moving back towards the elevator. He moved in and switched off his flashlight, studying some of the tags of graffiti on its walls, making note to leave some of his own in the future.

He entered his bedroom after the short trip, happy to leave the creepy confines alone in the unfamiliar studio, Murdoc now on his stomach sprawled out completely on his mattress. 2-D hesitantly sat on a spot free of Murdoc's territory, his limbs taking up most of the space.

"Um," he didn't know if he should wake him. "Murdoc?"

Murdoc didn't respond at first, 2-D hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle shake. "Murdoc."

"Wot!" he turned to look at 2-D, raising his head in a quick whip of movement, his eyes wide before his lids drooped; just when he was enjoying 2-D's usual butterscotch scent. "I'm fuckin' sleepin', git."

2-D winced but was happy to see no physical abuse coming his way, speaking quickly as he lifted Murdoc's beverage. "I got wot you wanted? Took one too, if you don't mind."

"Leave it on the side of me." He careless swiped the air as he rolled onto his back, his eyes remaining shut as he spoke tiredly. "You go somewhere, I need to pass out."

"Muds," 2-D tried to rationalize as he spoke nervously. "I don't know this place very well, an' even though I don't wanna sleep in here wiff that whale, this place in general doesn't sit right wiff me an' I dunno where to―"

"_Shhhh,_" Murdoc put a finger to 2-D's mouth and shocked him into silence, the bassist drunkenly swaying before lowering back down to the cushions. '_Why do the pretty ones always talk so much?_'

The older of the two rolled onto his side to show him his back, 2-D pouting and looking defeated as he held two chilled and quite full beers. Murdoc looked obliterated and not to mention exhausted as he breathed into Stu's pillow, frightening a now observant 2-D on how much he had aged over the few years. His skin was so green, his rumpled shirt open to show his rounding, jade stomach. 2-D could peak a bit at his ribs, which were still slightly protruding; 2-D always found it funny how thin the rest of the man's body could be with the exception of a bit of a paunch above his belt.

"I dun even know where a guest room is!" it went to deaf ears, a snore sounding from Murdoc's open mouth as he turned away. "Great―fanks Muds."

2-D had no idea where anything in this place was, let alone a good spot to sleep. He perked up a bit as he scratched his scalp in thought, unsure if the one that currently settled was a smart idea.

"I wonder where Muds sleeps."

This chapter was a lot shorter than I thought. Next ones will definitely be longer, and I possibly am posting two chapters in tandem. We'll see how I feel.

Let me know what you think, it's greatly appreciated. This is probably the smuttiest scene I have yet to post in a fanfic, even if it's just a masturbation scene. Any comments, critic or anything else you can throw me would be wonderful. Hope you're enjoying so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Warning: Murdoc/2-D; drug use; mentions of sex (will get steadily more graphic); stuff. Please, if this really makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't suggest reading it.  
Genres: General/Romance/Angst  
Full Summary: With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader. Murdoc has only seemed to fall more crazed and outlandish in his ideas, his sanity and sobriety seeming to deteriorate like his health. Murdoc's lies continue at a steady pace, 2-D unsure how to separate the fibs from the truth. Will it be Murdoc who wraps 2-D around his finger, or the other way around?

Chapter four has been sitting in my computer for...months. This is beta'd by my wonderful good friend denkinousagi, who I have been having the best Muds/2-D roleplays ever with, which is why I haven't updated this in...forever. Also, summer is here, and the private life changes up a bit. This chapter is a bit of a filler, so sorry for the shitty comeback. I'll try to update as soon as possible, because the fifth chapter is without a doubt better. Hope you guys enjoy; this chapter is for you, Denki!

2-D decided to leave a sleeping Murdoc in his bedroom alone, not quite wanting to be defenseless by that dreaded window anyway. Carrying his unopened beer, he stepped into the lift and studied an array of buttons to choose, his gaze falling upon one in particular. The words, 'Master Bedroom' lay dimly lit behind the faltering light system of the console, 2-D not at all trusting this rickety lift any more than Kong's.

He pressed the button even though the Satanist had a high likelihood of finally killing him; 2-D had never _dared_ to enter his quarters without permission in the past, knowing the beating it entailed. Stu-Pot figured that Murdoc Niccals had marked his territory in his new surroundings much like he had done with the Winnebago, keeping it filthy, packed to the brim with his possessions, and decorated to his liking. Stu was greeted by the small hallway that separated his bedroom from the lift, noting that the watertight door was open a crack. Moving towards the glowing ajar shape, he opened the seal further with a loud rusty groan, standing at the edge pensively before finally stepping in.

The room was lit, unlike the hallway. 2-D jumped a bit as the door closed behind him. There was little chance that 2-D would be leaving anytime soon, such a coincidental occurrence easily shaking up a frightful Stu-Pot. He was surprised to find the place for the most part spotless, thinking it was unbelievable that the room he had made his own only a few hours ago was in more disarray than Murdoc's.

Stu looked over modestly to the TV screen, which now held the menu to the _Free My Willy_ DVD, going pale as he recognized the reference. He moved hurriedly to the television before pressing the button on the console to shut it down; he knew he wouldn't be getting a stiffy anyway with any mention of the word 'whale'.

He stared at the remote device that Murdoc had left out as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out how to switch the input channel off but with little luck. Deciding to place it down before he managed to accidently break it, 2-D invited himself more towards the center of the bed, hesitantly making himself comfortable as he tried to contain himself. He was in Murdoc's bed unsupervised, studying the rip scorning the mattress curiously before easily shrugging it off like his band mate.

2-D (who knew from experience) had thought that Murdoc's bed in the Winne was comfortable, but this new mattress easily took the prize. It felt like he was melting into the soft and familiar silky Egyptian sheets, 2-D unsure if they were the same infamous material that inhabited his last mobile abode.

'_Oh man._' He couldn't help the smile that drew across his face, as well as the bit of warmth in the apple of his cheeks as his hands brushed over the surface, enjoying the smooth feel of the silk on his bare skin. '_It even smells like him._' Settling the side of his head on the pillow, he took a deep inhale of stale fags, whisky, and aftershave, closing his eyes as they opened lax in his coziness. He looked to the windows beside him as he fought to keep his eyes open, feeling his first bout of safety on Plastic Beach as he rested on Murdoc's bed, unfortunately without him. 2-D passed out in minutes, completely at ease as he nuzzled Murdoc's undressed pillow, spreading out his lanky limbs as he twisted in his sleep.

It felt like he had only rested a few minutes when 2-D sat up disoriented, whipping his head around the naturally lit bedroom at what he believed to be mid morning. The windows showed surprisingly clear skies despite the perilously clouded night a few hours earlier, 2-D staring out into the vivid azure that took up his vision. Before standing from his spot, he stretched in the expensive sheets and appreciated Murdoc's property for a bit longer. After taking his time, knowing deep down that he didn't want to move, 2-D stood from the bed as if he was in a trance, walking towards the windows. He leaned to look past the wide pane of glass, pressing his face into it to get a good look below.

His mouth opened as he stared down at the bright pink terra, crusted from a thick paint job that covered heavily melted trash. He couldn't believe his damaged eyes, rubbing them as if he was trying to rid of disillusioning sleep, his gapped teeth revealed in a gape. If he thought 'utter garbage and debris' littered Kong, he was now disturbingly surprised. The trees literally looked like fauna from some _Dr. Seuss_ tale, not by far looking natural with their crooked appearance, as if they had somehow seeded from out of the trash heap.

A small set of buildings along a peer caught his eyes, squinting as he placed his fingers against the glass. They seemed so empty, voided of any light as 2-D studied them, as if waiting for a vendor similar to his father's fun fair to arrive out of the wooden huts. The said huts seemed decrepit and shut down, only reminding 2-D of what else may rest on the island before even stepping foot on its 'soil'.

He remembered where he was and couldn't help himself as he walked over to the bed, trusting that this early in the day Murdoc had no plans to awaken. He was about to plop down before something below his bare feet spooked him, as it was definitely not the carpet. Jumping back like a frightened cat, he looked down before relaxing, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

"Woah," he spoke out loud to no one. "Those are a hell of a lotta hats!" He moved to pick up one of the outlandish caps before one in particular caught his eye. It was hunter green with a leather bill, two golden rifles crossed at the center. He immediately recognized it as Noodle's and his shoulders sagged as he picked it up, hesitating before stuffing it on.

Deciding to look elsewhere in the room to distract his thoughts from the despair growing in his chest, he moved towards the pile of boxes in the corner, stunned to see this as one of the only signs of disarray in the bedroom, familiar to Murdoc's past environment. Of course Murdoc's computer was carelessly placed among the stack of unshapely boxes, a fax machine perched and in danger of tipping over at the top of the mountain. 2-D didn't try to reason why he would put it so high, the taller man not even attempting to fathom it.

'_Is that…_' His eyes narrowed as he picked up an empty box which looked like it had been kicked open. "Is this the new fuckin' _iPad_!" he spoke his thoughts out loud in shock, putting the box down after realizing that the aforementioned device wasn't in the remains of cardboard.

There was a bright shade of yellow peeking from one of the packages, 2-D realizing them to be bananas as he helped himself, scooping up a few in his arms prior to dropping back down to the bed. He took his time undoing the skin, taking a bite contently as he contemplated one more whack at the clicker.

The door moved opened and as a reflex Stu leapt off the spot as if it were on fire, slipping on one of the banana peels before almost humorlessly falling backwards. He caught himself by the bed post but still managed to trip with an '_UMF!_' cursing to himself as he made a small fit of noises.

After a quick prayer, he finally peeked over the horizon of the bed, surprised to find a small suited man gathering the blankets and throwing them into place. Tattoo paused in his task as he caught sight of a messy head of azure hair and two deep set eyes blinking above the edge of the mattress, Stu standing abruptly as if his body felt relieved to not see the owner of Plastic Beach.

"Um…" Tattoo stared as 2-D blinked dumfounded, the small man holding one or two of Murdoc's exotic hats, the singer fidgeting as he clumsily began to pick up banana peels off the floor. "Hi—I'm 2-D." He was holding the skins to his chest, peeling a hand away to offer it to Tattoo with his usual gapped and crooked smile, wide and inviting unlike Murdoc's as one banana peel fell unnoticed to the floor.

"2-D?" he asked with a heavily accented voice. "Boss?"

"Erm…" He shrugged, taking his hand back. "Sure. How did you get here?"

"Gassed by _the_ Boss," he said with a frown, 2-D not having to ask how Murdoc rubbed him the wrong way since his recruitment.

"Oh," he said softly. "You need help?"

Tattoo looked at him as if he had three heads, like the word 'help' had never been murmured to him in the confines of this prison.

"No, Boss―this is what I'm here to do."

"Does Murdoc even pay you?" 2-D questioned, raising a thick eyebrow.

"The Boss spared my life?" 2-D more than anyone could understand why this was a formidable answer.

"I see." He fell quiet, feeling out of place as Tattoo swept passed him, picking up his fallen banana peels, already done with the task of fixing the bed and settling the hats. He noticed the one on 2-D's head but made no sound about it, sweeping the loose ash that littered Murdoc's dresser back into the ashtray.

"The Boss wouldn't be happy to see skinny man in here." He looked up at him, 2-D's face falling.

"You won't tell…" He searched for the words, frightened. "…Will you?"

Tattoo studied him for a moment, until the usual cheery smile he greeted the guests with broke across his face.

"Of course not."

2-D smiled back at the small man who began to move out of the room, following immediately with his finger tips tapping together.

"Wait, Tattoo!" 2-D moved to the night stand, snatching his forgotten beer. Tattoo stopped after pressing the button for the lift, the doors opening as it hadn't moved since his travel. He held all the empty banana skins in his arms before 2-D rushed over and took some from the pile. "Um…" He felt silly asking. "Do you cook?"

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Sí, I cook. You hungry?" They both moved into the lift, 2-D's head moving just as excitedly.

"I'm starvin', I could eat a horse!" He blinked as he opened his beer, disposing the cap with the many other that littered the floor. "Not really though, I'm a vegetarian."

"Vegetarian?"

"Yes, y'know—no meat."

"Oh, sí. What would you like, Boss?"

The lift paused at the study, 2-D moving out to step into the room as he scratched his bare belly in thought. "_Uhhhhhhhh_…" Tattoo blinked as the man continued to trail off in thought, before 2-D erupted with an idea. "I dunno, you got like, toast? I like toast. Oh, or like, pancakes or summfink like that?" He grinned as he took a sip of his beer, making a sour face at how warm it was.

Tattoo could tell that Stu and Murdoc had completely different tastes. Murdoc had always demanded a copious breakfast, desiring an array of sausages, bacon, eggs, crêpes, or anything else that the Satanist could think up, insisting on it being ordered and then made fresh on the island.

"I shall see what I can do, Boss. I shall bring it down to you." He pressed the button to shut the lift doors, 2-D chiming in before it sealed.

"Fank you!" Stu gazed inquisitively around the study, feeling curious as he moved towards the book shelves. It was fairly large and a new addition since Kong never featured such an array of books; he was impressed by their width and plentiful size. He picked up one or two, studying their leather covers and flipping them open as he drank his brew, not surprised on being confused by some of the vocabulary. Murdoc had an impressive selection of literature, including some that were definitely too disturbing and dark for 2-D's taste, such as _Mein Kampf_ or the _Necronomicon_.

Putting away the copies with a shake of his head, he turned to a wall on his right, moving towards various different types of frames. Stu spotted multiple pictures of Murdoc with celebrities, the bassist looking wild and drunk in every shot. He was surprised to find a small framed photo in the right corner of the display, a photo that he himself took, long skinny fingers peeling it off the wall to examine the familiar shot.

It was the Gorillaz during their last tour, more than likely before they wanted to rip out Murdoc's throat for being difficult to bunk with. Even though the three others were absolutely annoyed, the four stuck it out together until the end, no matter how arduous life on the road was (though Murdoc enjoyed it more than anything) with the four differing personalities, the tour bus much smaller than the walls separating them in Kong.

A sad but normally crooked smile spread across 2-D's face as a thumb ran over the crack denting the glass, yet the picture was beautiful all the more. 2-D could remember holding up the new digital camera he had purchased not long before the tour, Noodle with her arms wrapped around him and grinning over his shoulder. The camera was raised to show Murdoc and Russel standing behind them, caught off guard as 2-D flashed a quick shot of them in a lift from one of the many hotels they stayed at.

These were some of the times he missed the most, the four of them together before things slowly started to crumble after _Demon Days_. Murdoc had taken off, Noodle had also gone missing, and Russel had moved on as well. 2-D had been alone at Kong for some time, but had left shortly for his mother's home before Murdoc's return.

2-D stared at the man in the photo, who was less green than now but still an off shade of olive. His hair was still shaggy, teeth still fanged, eyes tinted canary gold and because he was caught off guard, not sporting his infamous smirk. 2-D studied him in the photo, remembering this to be after they were intimate.

He thought back to the older man now passed out in his room, comparing the two in his memory, realizing that even though Murdoc had gotten progressively greener, he hadn't changed too much since he had always been a bit 'unorthodox' in terms of beauty. '_An' yet you're still attracted to him_'. He looked shamefaced as he placed the frame back to its home, as if it was willing these thoughts, knowing that he certainly did eye Murdoc in his briefs last night. He hastily sipped his beer, as if the bitter liquid would wash the thoughts away; he could not deny the extreme want that remained, and of course, Murdoc had caught him staring fair and square. Finally he got enough courage to look at Murdoc in a large shot elsewhere on the wall, one that was more recent to his looks, 2-D blinking.

'_Is that Snoop Dogg?_' It certainly was, the two sitting on what looked like a deck of more than likely Plastic Beach. A plume of smoke was unable to be filtered by the camera as their eyes looked bloodshot, appearing to be caught in a bout of laughter. 2-D chuckled, studying Murdoc's eyes; Stu could easily get lost in Murdoc's stare, always fascinated by how unnatural its colors were, despite being yellow from years of the various abuse he put on his physic.

One eye was completely black, the pupil indecipherable. Yet the other was the opposite, a stunning shade of ruby, which 2-D realized had different swirls of pink and crimson throughout the iris. It was intimidating, emotional, and captivating all without trying; it certainly only heightened the unnatural, twisted look about him.

'_Reminds me of summfink like a ruby.'_ He snorted with laughter to himself. '_Or a rhinestone._' He didn't know why this notion came to him, but it did as 2-D studied Murdoc's eyes within each of the pictures. He turned away to the desk, which he was happy to see didn't feature that squid, sitting on the leather seat with a sigh. Making use of a cigarette box Murdoc had left half full on the counter, he lit one up and inhaled as he studied the furniture. He looked to the polish oak drawers, the wood covered in an array of scratches with some of the handles gone missing. They each had locks, 2-D surprised that they weren't in use when he lazily pulled open the drawer in the center, not expecting it to swing open.

He felt guilty for looking through Murdoc's things, and knew he was probably still going to get caught for going in his bedroom, so he immediately shut it and stood, knowing it was wrong of him despite Murdoc usually taking the liberty of using anything 2-D owned. His mentor used his instruments, his clothing, his shoes; Murdoc even had had the bollocks to at one time sell his possessions on eBay. Yet more than likely in some way, the bassist would figure out he stayed in his room today and have a fit about it. Murdoc had a habit of being finicky about everyone touching his belongings.

The box he had been shipped over in was nearby anyway, catching his attention as he sat Indian style before it, digging through its contents as he puffed on a cigarette. There were still things missing, which Murdoc assured 2-D were on their way; he was relieved to find his cell phone in the remaining pile. He picked it up, flipping it over and surprised to see it still alive (although barely), texting his mother in hopes that it would manage to reach her. He had no clue where on the map they were, having forgotten quite easily since he had looked it up, but knew for sure it was somewhere far away from England.

Happy to find an array of jeans and coats, and a few more pairs of boots that Murdoc had managed to stuff in, 2-D pulled out one of the keyboards he had brought from Kong to his home before leaving their disintegrating studio, the keys messily colored red with marker ink. The rest was empty of his possessions; 2-D knew his mother would have a lot to ship over, and figured the rest of the goods that traveled with him were Murdoc's. He rolled his eyes, finishing his beer until he was startled into almost coughing up the final bubbles, turning his head around as he heard the lift doors open.

As Tattoo walked in with a plate full of what 2-D had ordered, the singer practically drooled as he stood up and walked over, leaving his empty bottle on the floor. The smell alone was driving him insane, going days without a meal other than those bananas.

"Here you go!" Tattoo said with a smile, handing the plate to 2-D, still warm as the pile of pancakes covered in sliced bananas enticed the recipient.

"Fank you! You put syrup an' butter on it an' everyfing; this smells delicious!" 2-D helped himself to the seat of Murdoc's desk, Tattoo watching in surprise. He was shocked at how fearlessly 2-D sat down to the makeshift table, as Murdoc more than likely would disapprove, digging into his food without hesitation. "M' gowd, ish soo gewd!" His mouth was full of food, his head nodding up and down enthusiastically as bits and pieces flew about.

Tattoo waited for him to finish before bringing over a fresh beer, 2-D pulling off the cap and sipping down his meal. 2-D had eaten with surprising speed, leaving only a bit left as he pushed the messy plate away, rubbing his stomach that still remained relatively flat. "Fank you so much." He looked sheepish. "If I had a few quids, I'd give 'em to you. Dunno what happened to my wallet."

"Quid?"

"Yeah, y'know—England's currency."

"No, no, Boss. I cannot." He shook his head as he whipped 2-D's mess away from the desk.

"Well," 2-D shrugged gently, "If you need anyfink, let me know!" He nodded again, standing with a bit of a stretch, elongating his already tall torso as he drank his new beverage, glad that this one was cold. "Y'know how to work this fing?" he pointed to the screen of the theater, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs.

Tattoo shrugged and pulled down the screen with a bit of a jump, moving towards the changer besides 2-D and flashing on the projector with no figuring out. 2-D blinked, taking the remote when Tattoo handed it to him, pointing upwards as he changed the channel.

"Nice." He looked to Tattoo with a grin. "Fanks!" Tattoo nodded and walked towards the door, knowing 2-D would be sitting down here for a while. 2-D was plenty occupied for now, looking at the beautiful picture the screen offered. "Even got cup holders!" He placed the beer in the socket and stared up at the television with wide eyes, his face glowing with the screen's reflection.

Stu blinked up at the TV as he skipped through a multitude of channels. There was an impressive amount, well going past the thousands with a variation of languages and time zones. He had settled on only a few programs, watching a violent talk show before switching towards the end of some terrible Sci-fi movie, and soon after a Bugs Bunny short. He snorted with laughter as he watched in full amusement, despite not understanding it since it was completely in Spanish. He took a deep inhale and looked towards the clock, surprised by what he saw.

The hours had gone by and it was fifteen minutes before 13:00, with no signs of Murdoc. 2-D shrugged, not surprised at all that Murdoc was sleeping in. Only when a few more hours had passed did 2-D become restless, turning from the television before raising an eyebrow, staring at the lift. It was 15:30, and still no signs of the bassist. 2-D stood, already well onto his fourth beer (and this was him taking his time), not finding much else to drink in this place. Not that he minded, as Tattoo kept bringing out the ice cold White Light; he couldn't refuse.

A few floors down from the patient 2-D, the owner of Plastic Beach laid curled under 2-D's pink comforter, content as he woke up in the room's darkness, at first not realizing it wasn't his own. He rolled onto his back, rubbing his palms into crusty eyes before pausing; these sheets were not made of Egyptian silk. He opened two toned eyes slightly unwillingly, since waking up in an unfamiliar bed was not out of the norm.

'_But it is now,_' his mind rationalized. '_You're on Plastic Beach._' He sat up instantly before remembering just whose bed this was, the butterscotch aroma being hint enough. This did not quell his worry as he sighed out loud, his morning still filled with intoxication, Murdoc not remembering the last time he had woken up not still slightly drunk. '_Why am I waking up in 2-D's bed?_' He looked to the faint light below the curtain, the material catching his attention and fueling his memory.

"Oh right." He opened the window, seeing the outline of a whale in the misty ocean. "Dullard and his fears." He snorted, reaching to the side of the bed, cracking open the warm beer the other had left him. He kicked off the blanket and scratched his groin, drinking down his ale in a breathtaking chug, tossing the emptied bottle with an unpleasant belch. After whipping his mouth across his hand, he flopped back down to the pillows and crossed his arms behind his bed ridden hair, not exactly in the mood to rush upstairs.

'_The idiot is probably fine._' Murdoc snorted. '_He's entertained with a paper clip and a string of yarn._' He hoped Tattoo had filled his small attention span enough to deter him from breaking anything, Murdoc laughing at the idea. Sometimes, that's exactly what 2-D was: 'idiot', 'slow', 'crap for brains'. Murdoc would pull out all the stops when the faceache pissed him off enough. '_Yet,_' Murdoc mused with a smile he couldn't help but flash, '_how endearing those 'nicknames' have become._'

Murdoc couldn't help but reflect back on how much 2-D's and his relationship had evolved. It had started off harmless, at least on 2-D's part, as he had been in a completely comatose state, dead to the world except for his faint breathing. Murdoc Niccals, a speed addicted heathen roaming the streets in the name of destruction with his mates, had been the last human being who should have been caring for Stu-Pot. After crashing his car through the window of Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, Murdoc had been assigned the job of caretaker, and had taken his thirty-thousand hours of community service only slightly seriously; Man, the 'shenanigans' Murdoc and Stuart would get into, his future singer not having much of a choice.

Oh, the list could go on for the torture Murdoc had brought out against Stu. Murdoc would drag him across the floor, smack him around, regularly give him swirlies in his unsightly toilet, partake in wheel chair racing, light the ends of his hair on fire, push him to the floor—the list went on.

He had memories of bringing him to parties, his unconscious form hanging half in and out of the seat as he and his friends would scribble on his lifeless face with a Sharpie marker. Murdoc remembered drawing a cartoonish penis next to his mouth as others had laughed and drawn other shapes across his pale skin. 2-D might give a twitch or two in response, to which everyone would laugh or gasp at, until he would go unmoving and the fun would commence.

Even unconscious, the boy had been a chick magnet. It had only quelled Murdoc's want for him in his future band, girls walking up to the comatose boy and sitting on his lap, taking smashed pictures with a kid who they thought had passed out and got drawn on by his friends.

Murdoc had been fairly cruel to 2-D when he had felt the ache of caring for him or when he had tried to show off in front of his dingy friends, but the maliciousness would slow down when he would bring him home. It would only be Murdoc and 2-D, the former having the task of scrubbing him clean of any signs of damage, always watchful of the bruises he had put on 2-D. His mother had been up his ass when it came to her son, regularly walking into Murdoc's apartment to pick him up before snootily turning up her nose to him and his filthy environment.

Murdoc had spent a majority of his time alone with the vegetative 2-D, which had taken up most of his days with something new to him and his carefree lifestyle: responsibility. He would watch 2-D in the silence of his messy studio apartment, tongue hanging past his lips, hunched over in the wheel chair. Even then Murdoc could admit (to himself) that he was an attractive boy, the beautiful cerulean eye that was missing its mate was nice; but Murdoc had to say, that black orb which had been caused by he himself looked even more appealing, which was strange considering it was some bizarre wound.

Then 2-D had woken up thanks to Murdoc's Astra again; not with one dented eye, but two. Murdoc could remember the first thought that had entered his head, even with 2-D's skin hanging half off his face as he had managed to push himself off the ground on unstable limbs.

'_He's beautiful._' He had sat in the smoking car, slowly grinning but breathless. '_A blue-haired, black-eyed God._'

After the accident, only a day or so after 2-D got a clean bill of health (aside from the future mental affects and two fractured eyes that made him the Stu-Pot people identified with today), the skinny twenty-year-old had showed up in front of Murdoc's tiny apartment's door, much to the latter's surprise.

"Uh…" Murdoc had stared at him, fresh out of bed when his former 'burden' had knocked on the door, only in his underwear as 2-D had greeted him, blinking before timidly waving. "We gonna start that band?" Murdoc had looked behind him, spotting only a keyboard and a suitcase, starting their strange yet long lasting friendship.

They had spent a majority of time alone together during their self-titled album, somehow able to drive through the ruts of their relationship. Murdoc had been harsh on 2-D, who had needed some training for his stage presence. 2-D had had a tendency of dazing off when they first had begun practice, just stopping pressing the keys and letting his scrambled mind take over. Murdoc would set aside his bass lovingly and proceed to stalk over, starting the age of Murdoc's physical abuse on Stu. It had served the bassist well, as he had noticed an immediate improvement in his attention skills, and 2-D had blossomed into a great artist as these talents broke over to their first CD.

Then there had been Paula. Murdoc looked to the ledge beside him and found a few cigarettes left by 2-D, definitely in need of one as he thought back to that bloody woman. Murdoc had spotted her as a floozy since the day the singer had walked into the studio with her, putting up with her mediocre guitar skills as he had watched 2-D gush over her with a roll of his eyes.

Well, Murdoc had put an abrupt stop to that. It wasn't like he had meant to. He had been well into his seventh beer and a bit of liquor when she had sauntered into the rest room; Murdoc had attempted to stand while pissing, Paula undaunted by the older man using the facilities as she had asked for an extra guitar chord. She at least had had the decency to let him tuck himself away as he had moved to give her an answer, before smashing her painted lips roughly onto his.

'_Found out why 2-D put up with that broken face._' One thing had led to another and Murdoc had found himself screwing 2-D's girlfriend in the bathroom stall, the woman crying out loudly enough to attract the attention of a certain drummer. Murdoc hated the woman anyway, just an easy way to get rid of her once and for good, and Russel would be witness enough to tell 2-D.

Russel had ignored the fact that he was new to the band as he had wandered in to find Murdoc and Paula in a tangle of limbs on top of the toilet, grabbing the bassist from under her as she had fled, breaking his nose in a few different places with a couple slams of his fist; that was certainly not part of the plan. Murdoc had been bleeding heavily, and he remembered 2-D rushing in looking as pale as he, the alcohol thinning his blood as the world was hazy.

"Murdoc…" 2-D lips had trembled. "Why?"

Murdoc had passed out before he could even respond, and had been shocked to find 2-D by his side at the hospital, clearly upset as he had avoided watching Murdoc at first, who had alerted 2-D of his regained consciousness as he had cleared his throat.

"Yo." It had been the first thing Murdoc had been brave enough to mutter, his voice faint.

"Hey," 2-D had responded, looking at his entwined fingers. "He broke your nose in five differen' spots."

Murdoc had shaken his head, not needing to look down to know his nose had been heavily bandaged. "Not the first time, probably won' be the last."

2-D had said nothing but had nodded, the bassist unable to stand the tension, feeling a hungering for a cigarette.

"Uh…" He had looked to the side; guilt was so shitty, especially when you had no idea how to rectify it. "She asked me for a guitar cable."

"It doesn't matter."

Murdoc had not believed the words he had heard coming out of his mouth, 2-D continuing. "I've seen her eye you before." He had shaken his head with a half-hearted laugh. "You were drunk, and not the one in the relationship."

Finally 2-D's wide eyes had met Murdoc's, the bassist feeling sick at the way his heart had clenched. "We can do better than her, anyway."

Things had gone on, if not better, between 2-D and Murdoc. Little had the older man known that 2-D had been beginning to discover his own underlying interest in his band leader, seeing why his own girlfriend had found him charming. The band had had their first tour, and even though Russel and Noodle had been becoming furious with Murdoc's wild road antics; 2-D for the most part had remained silent and had never moved in his faithfulness.

Even after Murdoc recalled choking him after the four of them had tried to create a movie (with a whole bunch of horrible luck); 2-D had completely forgotten about it when Murdoc had returned from Mexico, a free jailbird and back in Kong Studios. The singer had even paid him with one of the most sacred gifts of all.

2-D had trusted him enough to give him his body, which Murdoc had taken without a second thought. The singer had kissed him and it had all gone downhill from there. Murdoc and 2-D had moved from the bedroom to the kitchen counters, to the bear skin rug and last but not least the front driver's seat. Murdoc had woken up with his singer curled around him and mirroring his shock, at first furious at the fact that he had given in to the dullard.

Yeah, he had realized 2D would sometimes stare at him a little too long, but would shrug it off as himself just seeing things or 2-D and his usual unhinged stupidity. But 2-D had proven just how into him he had been that night with one ballsy kiss.

Murdoc would lie in bed after the occurrence, having to live with 2-D only a few feet away, and the thoughts that it had been a 'mistake' and that it should 'never happen again' had got old. Females he had perused afterwards had been getting skinnier and lankier as time had gone by, mostly made up of thin legs like his singer. He'd find himself thinking about it constantly; having a tight, enjoyable lay only a few steps away, while 2-D himself had never even brought up the single occurrence again.

He had tried to tell himself he couldn't ever be attracted to someone so simple, a man with an annoying voice and awkward way about him. But for every comment Murdoc could make about 2-D (which was a lot), he could come up with ideas of just what was so pleasing about him.

Besides his nice build, which was thin and not at all bulky, he had a beautiful face and somewhat style, not to mention the little things that had been annoying but had become endearing. Let's not forget his musical talent, something Murdoc had always appreciated and could admit to even the dullard himself, 2-D having brilliant keyboard skills; the angelic, soulful voice of course was proof enough, lulling Murdoc long ago. Most of all, he had actually cared about him; 2-D didn't care about the fame, the money, everything that came with Murdoc being the leader of Gorillaz. He had already been part of the Gorillaz; he hadn't need Murdoc for any of those things anymore.

He had cared about Murdoc Niccals, the now forty-three years old Stoke-on-Tent native and Satanist and actually had known him past a one night stand, unlike the other females who would proclaim their love to him just to be laughed at. Murdoc didn't need 2-D to tell him that he adored him, as the latter wore his heart painfully obvious on his sleeve to a fault.

But the dullard had become hard to read; he was stand offish, mostly to Murdoc's liability, and impossible to flirt with. Murdoc had tried to get him alone once or twice as an experiment, to see if the other who had obviously shown interest in him would make that brave mistake twice; it had never come, 2-D just getting drunk and high with him like old times, which had frustrated Murdoc to no end. 2-D must have been plenty intoxicated that night, Murdoc slowly beginning to realize just how much it had meant to him, and more than likely he had been far too scared to do it again.

Just how easy it had been to take advantage of his feelings, his admiration easily explaining his loyalty. Explained why he was putting up with living on this island, not even getting annoyed but rather screaming for his bassist to save him about the whale that hovered not too far away. When 2-D had vacated the box, it had been one of the first times Murdoc had seen 2-D as the definition of 'furious', the older man remembering his bruised lip as he licked it with his tongue; it had gone down a bit, but the dullard had actually gotten a good shot at him.

"Who would of known," whispered Murdoc to himself as he took the last pull off his cigarette, taping it over the box that 2-D had made his ashtray. 2-D thought he didn't know who had given him his infamous _Demon Days_ hickey, but Murdoc could spot his own 'signature' miles away.

Murdoc had no memory of the incident, but assumed 2-D hadn't fought him away that night.

It was time to see where the dullard had run off to, where he had made his bed, which Murdoc figured had been more than likely uncomfortable. Where else would he have gone, other than the study? He was too terrified to go elsewhere. Murdoc stood with a stretch and had no shame as he scratched himself in multiple places on his body, walking into the lift as he closed his eyes.

"Fuckin' bright." After a quick stop to the bathroom, Murdoc's liver twitched awake, reminding him of the best part of the day; the first glass of alcohol, his addiction a reminder since the moment he had woken up. The lift opened to reveal 2-D lying across one of the theater chairs, now dressed in a wife beater to go along with his flannel pants. From what Murdoc could see, there was a collection of beer bottles surrounding him, and on his head was a hat he could identify as Noodle's.

2-D looked up and smiled a bit as Murdoc came into the room, giving a faint wave. "Mornin'… Well, good afternoon." Murdoc said nothing as he approached the large globe, flipping it open and pulling out a bottle that looked aged, with the letters 'XXX' written on the label. Murdoc blew dust off after a quick examination, giving a shrug as he finally acknowledged 2-D.

"It's never a good mornin'," he grumbled, pulling out a frozen glass from the globe, which 2-D figured was some sort of ice box. He filled it to the brim before grabbing a beer for the other, 2-D perking in his seat and sitting up straight. Murdoc took the glass and sipped half of it down with ease, before turning to 2-D with the brew. His singer was about to reach for it until Murdoc abruptly pulled it back, staring at 2-D with the usual glare he sported when waking up. "Where did you get that hat?"

2-D immediately sank into his spot, giving a soft shrug as he feigned innocence. Murdoc's glare became darker as he finished his glass of whatever it was, turning away to fill it again. He handed the beer to 2-D as he moved towards the desk, giving a snort. "That's such a lie. You went into my room?" he asked, Murdoc unable to believe it himself. 2-D had never had enough gall to do it in the past.

"Well, I needed somewhere to sleep!" 2-D twisted off the top of the glass bottle, reaching for a cigarette nervously. "You were in my room, an' you told me to leave." He pouted as he lit it up, offering one to Murdoc timidly.

"It's fine."

"And y'know…" 2-D paused, blinking. "Wot?"

"You heard me—it's fine." 2-D's mouth opened before his teeth snapped shut, his eyebrows rising in disbelief. Murdoc took the cigarette and lit it up, giving another shrug. Thinking back to how 2-D was technically a captive, he threw the younger man some slack, giving him credit for even having the courage to find the room in the first place. "Throw on some pants and boots—we're going outside."

Fifth chapter is much better than this, it's when the story picks up a bit. I'll get to it when I can. Let me know how you feel!


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